A King Without a Crown
by Halt.CPM
Summary: Could Lelouch have taken the throne without the power of the king, having to rely simply on his sheer brilliance instead of magical superbird symbols that shoots out of his eyes? I have no idea, but it will be fun trying to find out. AU.
1. Setting the Board

**AN: Greetings All! Fairly new to the Code Geass fandom, having only finished the season as of 2 days ago. I wrote this story as an experiment to see what would have happened if Lelouch didn't have Geass. Obviously, there are a few changes I had to make, but I tried to keep it as minimal as possible. The point of divergence is if a different squad found Lelouch on the subway of episode 1.**

**Inspired in part by "Dauntless" and "Lelouch of Britannia." 10/20/13**

**DISCLAIMER: If you seriously think I own Code Geass, I would question your mental capacity. **

**Chapter 1: The Board is Set**

"Shit." Lelouch muttered. It was an accurate description of the situation he found himself in. In hindsight, perhaps he shouldn't have decided to cut classes today just to play his highly illegal, but very lucrative chess match. He probably shouldn't have ditched Rivalz, his ride, on the highway either.

"Hands in the air. We have you surrounded." The officer said. As if Lelouch needed to be reminded of the 20 EK-68 assault rifles pointed at him.

Tentatively, he did as ordered, taking care not to make any sudden movements. Or, in general, give the soldiers a reason to shoot him.

The officer pointed to two of his subordinates. "You two, secure the gas." The officer noticed the Ashford Academy uniform Lelouch was wearing. "What's a Britannian school boy doing in the ghettos?" He asked.

Lelouch relaxed a little. They wouldn't dare execute a Britannian citizen without just cause. It might have been permissible and even encouraged against Numbers - the derogatory slur that encompassed all the colonized citizens of the Holy Britannian Empire - but Britannians, even commoners, were an entirely different story. "I saw the truck crash off road an-"

The officer interrupted. "And you thought you'd try to be a hero by helping out the survivors. Is that it?" He adjusted the unwieldy cape that was attached to his shoulder plates. Lelouch frowned. Why would an officer of the Royal Guard, men who were usually tasked with guarding royalty, get involved with a simple terrorist crackdown operation? Being hand-picked by Royalty meant they did not have to bother with mundane tasks unless their liege ordered them to.

"Yeah, I didn't know terrorists were involved. Good thing you guys came."

"Sir, gas is secured. The contents are untouched and the container is uncompromised." One of the soldiers reported.

The officer brought the radio to his ear and pushed a button, causing it to crackle to life. "We've secured the gas. We'll meet the VTOL gunships at the designated area for recovery."

"No, no problems encountered."

"Well…sir, we found a Britannian with the package."

"Understood, sir." The officer handed the radio to one of the soldiers. "You're coming with us."

Lelouch felt his heart stop. That couldn't be good. Getting arrested by the police was bad enough, but being taken by the military, in the middle of a ghetto? He might as well have been shot on the spot, and no one would have ever found out. "What for?" He went cold as he felt the barrel of an assault rifle poking his back.

"I suggest you keep your mouth shut." The officer replied curtly, turning on his heel.

Lelouch would have sworn again, but was keenly aware of the gun still at his back, and decided to take the officer's word to heart.

The group walked in silence; the soldiers out of discipline, the boy out of fear. It took a few minutes for them to reach outside of the subway. The sight that greeted Lelouch was unsettling.

They had turned Shinjuku Ghetto into a virtual warzone. VTOL gunships patrolled the skies, their mounted machine guns threatening to unleash death upon the inhabitants of the ghetto at the first sign of dissent. The unmistakable outline of the RPI-13 Sutherlands, humanoid robots two stories high piloted by the army's best, dominated the horizon armed with their giant assault rifles that cut could through crowds like a plasma knife through butter. It was almost unfathomable why the military would come out in such force to the nondescript ghetto near Tokyo Settlement.

He was brought out of his thoughts by a VTOL gunship landing in front of him. He was shoved forward, falling face first into the floor of the transport. Before he could attempt to get up, someone cuffed his wrists together with an ominous click. He was pulled up and thrown roughly onto a seat. It took a moment for his eyes to reorient themselves, and was greeted with the business end of a gun looming perilously close to his face.

"Prisoner secured. We are en route to the G-1." The officer said over the radio.

Lelouch's eyes widened. If they were headed to a G-1 Mobile Base then it could only mean one thing.

Prince Clovis, the Third Prince of the Empire and Viceroy of Japan - or Area 11 as it was now called - was on the field. Had his identity been compromised? Did Clovis find out that he and his sister were alive? More importantly, was Clovis going to kill them? It was likely, after all, that he would be assassinated. He was just another contender to the throne, after all.

But no, it seemed unlikely that the Third Prince was going to have him killed. Otherwise, he would be in a pool of his own blood right now back at the abandoned subway. Interrogation then? It was a possibility, but Lelouch Lamperouge had no information of worth for Clovis.

Lelouch vi Britannia, Eleventh Prince and Seventeenth in line to the Throne, however, was another story entirely. How could he forget that fateful day, seven years ago, when his mother had been killed. He and his sister had been abandoned, pounced upon by their enemies in court - the jealous consorts of the Imperial harem, their families and their supporters - with no friends able or willing to come to their defense. Even the Emperor, Charles zi Britannia, had cast them aside. They who were the children of his favored consort. Their father had called it "Social Darwinism", the Empire's excuse for imperialism and conquest.

Lelouch had called it barbarism. What else could call a system that approved, and even supported, of throwing away children deemed as "useless?"

His thoughts were interrupted when the VTOL landed softly onto the G-1's deck which also functioned as a makeshift landing pad. The door slid open and Lelouch stepped out at the "urging" of his warden. He was escorted hastily into, what he could only assume, was the command deck of the G-1.

He looked up to see the Viceroy of Area 11 seated on his throne. Clovis was dressed extravagantly in his so called uniform, which was restrictive and offered virtually no protection in battle. It was adorned with many commemorative ribbons and shiny medals. In short, it was the uniform of a politician playing soldier.

Clovis regarded his prisoner critically, not sure what to make of him. If the situation wasn't so serious, Lelouch would have assumed he was scrutinizing his choice of apparel. Then again, it was Clovis after all. Perhaps his Royal Guard had arrested him so he could be educated in what was considered as proper clothing for a Britannian in the ghettos? The thought brought a faint smile to Lelouch's lips.

It did not go unnoticed.

The guard beside him slammed the butt of his rifle into his back. The blow, unexpected as it was, sent Lelouch to the ground. He slowly pushed himself up so that he was kneeling on the floor.

"Stop." Clovis ordered. "What's your name?"

"Lamperouge, Your Highness." Lelouch said, praying to whatever deities that existed. that his brother would not recognize the maiden name of his mother.

"And your given name?" Clovis pressed.

Fuck. This was it. He was done for. After all, "Lelouch" wasn't exactly a common name. "It's Lelouch." Another blow came, forcing him back onto the ground.

"You will address Prince Clovis with his title, low-born cur!" The guard demanded harshly.

"It can't be him." Clovis muttered under his breath - apparently ignoring the conduct of his guard - frowning at the name. "Face me."

Lelouch did not move. The incensed guard grabbed the back of his head and pulled _hard_, forcing Lelouch to face his brother.

Clovis stood up and walked closer, turning pale as a ghost. "You're alive!" He exclaimed. "After all these years, I never thought…" He paused then snapped to attention as if suddenly realizing something. "Release him from his binds! I will not have a Prince of Britannia shackled up like some common criminal!" The guards, realizing that they were in the presence of not one, but _two_ members of the royal family, reacted quickly. In what must have been record time, the guards managed to free his hands from the cuffs.

Lelouch smiled, flexing his wrists experimentally. They were a little sore, but the pain was minimal.

"Brother!" Clovis moved forward, enveloping Lelouch in a brotherly embrace, which was received awkwardly. "Does…does this mean Nunnally is with us as well?" His voice was tinted with hope.

And here was the question Lelouch had dreaded. If he said yes, he would be plunging his sister back into the world of intrigue that they had left behind all those years ago. If he denied it, and was found out, then surely both their lives would be forfeit before the Emperor for attempting to escape from their Imperial Duty.

But Nunnally, innocent, blind and crippled, would stand no chance in the Royal Family now. It would be akin to throwing a bleeding babe among ravenous sharks for him to do so. If their mother, the Knight of Two, could not protect herself from their enemies in the court, what chance did Nunnally have? Hell, what chance did he have?

Lelouch bit his tongue hard, creating a cross between a wince and a grimace to grace his face. "I'm sorry, brother. Nunnally was killed during the war." He replied bitterly. "It is difficult for a blind and crippled girl to navigate through a war zone."

A war zone that had been created by his own country, his own family. He still remembered the dread he felt as he saw the Britannian bombers unleash death upon the city which had sheltered him and his sister. The bile that he had to swallow as he waded through a field of fresh corpses, with nowhere to go to but forward; no one by his side but Suzaku. The loathing he had subjected on himself for having to lie to his sister, whom he carried on his back, about the smell of carcass.

"We're just passing by a garbage dump." That was he had told her. Even after all these years, he couldn't forget. He would never forget.

Clovis' grip tightened around him. "I'm…I'm sorry to hear that brother. I knew you two were close…closer than even Cornelia is to Euphemia." He released Lelouch from his hug and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Will you be alright?"

Lelouch shrugged him off. "She's been dead for years. I've mourned for her long enough."

"I can only imagine what you've been through. You must despise us, the family, I mean, for what we did to you. We traded you off like cattle and left you for dead in this God-forsaken land." Clovis remarked. "It's no wonder you never contacted us after the war."

Lelouch remained silent.

"I truly am sorry for your loss. Believe me, there were those of us who tried to get Father to stay his hand for a while. To delay engaging in hostilities until we could save you and Nunnally, but…" Clovis trailed off, looking around suspiciously.

Even here, so far away from the homeland, his brother still feared their father too much to speak ill of him. Lelouch considered his words for a moment. Clovis was a downright narcissistic flop, more concerned with his own well-being and image than anything else. It was unlikely he even had the spine to stand up to the Emperor as he claimed. Still, Clovis and Lelouch were close as children, and were friends even. Why else would the Third Prince consent to playing chess so often, even when he hated the game and lost every time, if only for the sake of his brother's happiness?

"Let's not dwell on the past." He would give him the benefit of the doubt - for now. "Where do we go from here? I very much doubt father will be pleased that I took this long to return."

"I haven't quite thought about that yet." Clovis admitted sheepishly. How typical of him. He never was a long-term planner. "But, it only makes sense that you return into the fold of the family. There's no need for you to keep living like this."

Lelouch frowned, uncomprehending his brother's train of thought. "Like what exactly?"

"I mean you no offense, of course." Clovis continued rattling on. "One must do what is necessary to survive. Now that you're back with us, you don't have to keep living in the slums."

"I don't live here."

His statement was ignored. "It's nothing to be ashamed of." Clovis paused. "Ok, maybe it's a little embarrassing you chose here of all places. I doubt anyone will judge you for that, of course."

"Clovis."

"What is it?"

"I. don't. live here." Lelouch stated emphatically.

Clovis' face scrunched up in confusion. "Then why the hell were you here in the first place?"

"Like I've told your men, I was trying to help the victims of a car crash, when I got stuck in their truck. As luck would have it, it would be the one carrying terrorists out of all the cars in Tokyo." Lelouch said. "And out of all the terrorists in Tokyo, it would the ones you've chosen to gone after personally."

"Then surely it is fate which has reunited us today!" Clovis declared dramatically.

Lelouch snorted disdainfully. "Coincidence. There's no such thing as pre-destination. Each man is an agent of change, with no higher force to compel him to act in a certain way."

Clovis sighed. "Ever the philosopher." His expression morphed into a solemn one. "We can't keep putting this off. I'll have to tell Schneizel of this. He'll know how to handle it."

Lelouch stiffened. He had hoped to delay this, but it was futile to try and stop the inevitable. "That's probably best."

Schneizel was the 2nd Prince of Britannia, and arguably the most intelligent among the Imperial spawn. He was the only person Lelouch had never beaten at chess, a feat that few could boast.

Clovis withdrew a phone from his ornamental robes and tapped 3, before pressing the phone to his ear. "Schneizel, it's Clovis."

"I found our brother."

"What do you mean which brother? Lelouch of course!"

"Yes, I'm certain. No, I'm not drunk."

"Here," Clovis shoved the phone into Lelouch's hand. "He doesn't seem to believe me. It pains me so that he no longer trusts my judgment in a matter such as this. I think I'd very well know what my own brother looks like." He grumbled.

"To be fair, we do have quite a number of brothers." Lelouch replied, before activating the phone's camera. Schneizel appeared on screen. "Lelouch vi Britannia, eleventh prince and seventeenth in line to the throne." He heard Schneizel's voice hitch in his throat. "It's been a long time, brother."

"It's good to see you alive, Lelouch. Father will be overjoyed to hear of this news!" Lelouch's grin vanished at the mere mention of _him. _"Hand me back to Clovis, would you?" He did as was requested and returned the phone to its owner.

"Told you so. Maybe next time you'll have a little bit more faith in me."

"It might take a while to do that though."

"At least six hours, unless you want to run the risk of having it drop from the sky in midflight."

"Alright, I understand.

Clovis cut the line with a click, and pocketed the phone once more. "The Prime Minister," Clovis made air quotes as he addressed their brother by his formal title, a sign of the clear disdain he had for the rank, "has ordered you to be on my plane in six hours. That is hardly enough time for us to do anything, much less hold a party. We'll have to put if off for another time, I suppose."

"Yes, another time." Lelouch copied, nodding his head.

Clovis snapped his fingers. "I got it! We'll hold a nationwide…no, make it Empire wide announcement!"

Lelouch faked a smile and watched as his brother began making arrangements.

After this, the game of thrones would begin once again.

* * *

At the Ashford Academy Student Council Room, a blue haired boy had just arrived. The door hissed as it slid open to reveal the other members of the student council lounging about. A girl with spectacles sat at the far corner, typing away at her computer, more concerned with the numbers and figures that appeared in her computer as opposed to her own surroundings. She was Nina Einstein, the resident genius of the group. Two other girls were flipping through the channels of the television, looking extremely disinterested. One was Shirley Fenette, who had brownish-orange hair that seemed a palette away from auburn. The other, Milly Ashford, was a dirty blonde.

"Rivalz." Shirley, greeted the blue-haired boy coldly, crossing her arms in obvious displeasure. Rivalz Cardemonde was well known to be Lelouch Lamperouge's partner in crime. Working together, they had become involved in a series of _extracurricular _activities, the most prominent being the illegal, high-stakes chess games. Rivalz provided transportation with his motorbike, Lelouch provided the victories. It was a mutually beneficial partnership, to say the least.

She looked around and frowned, failing to determine the location of their vice president. "Where's Lulu?" She asked, using the nickname of her beloved, all the while wondering where said beloved was.

"We got separated. Don't worry, I'm sure Lelouch will be alright." Rivalz reassured her. "He always manages to come out on top, in the end."

"You mean you left him alone during your little excursion?" Shirley asked, her voice tinged with a tone that promised pain and suffering if she found his answers unsatisfactory.

He began sweating nervously. He raised his hands in surrender to appease the obviously incensed girl. "It wasn't like that! We were driving along the highway when this truck crashed and Lelouch went to investigate."

"Guys," Milly, the president of the student council, said. "I think I found Lulu."

The attention of the entire room shifted towards the television. Even Nina, sensing something wrong, paused from her calculations to take a look. They were greeted with the sight of their Vice President in a ceremonial dress. He had a regal air around him, and though not particularly tall, seemed imposing on camera. His smile, though wide, was not genuine. His eyes lacked the mischievous glint it normally had. It was a fake smile - a dead smile. The bottom of the screen read "Lelouch vi Britannia, Eleventh Prince, found!"

"Residents of Area Eleven," he began, his voice devoid of emotion, "I thank you all for the hospitality you have shown me all these years. It has truly been a fascinating experience for me and I will carry a piece of this country with me in my heart. Now, however, it is time for me to join my family in the Imperial Capital."

"Lelouch was a prince?" Rivalz exclaimed, never having been made aware of his comrade's true status. "WOW! And to think that's who we've been friends with all this time. What the hell was he doing here with us anyway?"

"If Lu-I mean if Lelouch is a prince, doesn't that mean Nunnally is a princess?" Shirley wondered aloud. "She should be going back to Pendragon too, right Milly?"

Milly shook her head. "I'm afraid not."

"What? Why not?" Rivalz demanded. "They're brother and sister aren't they."

"Didn't you notice how they only announced Lelouch was found? If I had to guess, I'd say he was trying to protect Nunnally from the Royal Family."

"Protect her? From the Royal Family?" Rivalz repeated with a frown. "That doesn't make any sense."

"Milly, what do you mean by that." Nina pressed, speaking for the first time.

Milly moved to lock the door, before turning to her friends. "Ok, but you guys have to promise not to tell anyone. What I'm about to tell you isn't something the Royal Family want people to know." She waited for each of them to swear, before she continued. "When Lelouch was ten years old, his mother, the Empress Marianne, was killed. It was reported as a terrorist attack at first, but we, that is to say, the Ashfords and Lelouch, always suspected it was more than that."

Nina gasped, grasping the implication of her statement. "Are you seriously suggesting that the Royal Family would assassinate one of their own?" Her fists were shaking.

Milly shrugged noncommittally. "It wouldn't be the first time. For those of us in the know, the Royal Family is a vicious environment to grow up in. Factionalism and conspiracy are rampant in the game of thrones. That's why you can never repeat anything that we've talked about here. It's grounds for treason."

"So Lelouch's life is in danger because of this?" Shirley asked faintly. Her face had turned ashen.

"It's a possibility." Milly replied. "That's probably why he's trying to keep Nunnally out of this. She would be used against him in the Royal Court. That's why we have to keep her existence a secret! As Student Council President, I hereby swear all of you to secrecy."

"Yes, Madame Prez!" The three replied. Rivalz even saluted, not the least bit mocking.

* * *

Meanwhile, another member of the Ashford clan was talking about the same thing.

Ruben Ashford, Superintendent of the Ashford Academt, bridged his hands on his mahogany desk. He was a man well past his prime, with his head now having greyed all over. Before him was one of his more...unique servants. Ruben peered at Sayoko Shinozaki through his glasses. "I assume that you have heard of the news by now?"

"Of course, sir." Sayoko replied.

"Then you know what must be done." It was a statement, not an order.

"According to the instructions of Master Lelouch, I am to follow the procedures of his contingency operation. I will be moving to the Ashford Vacation House in Hiroshima with Mistress Nunnally for the time being. I will bring or destroy anything that might be a clue to the existence of Mistress. A week after these steps are completed, I will begin looking for a suitable location to move to, preferably near the Vacation House. I am not to make direct contact with the Master for any reason, and will await further instructions from either you or Master Lelouch." She answered without pause. "If necessary, I am authorized to use lethal force to protect the Mistress. I will attach a sensor to my heart. If I am killed in action, it will alert you of this as well as the current location of Mistress Nunnally via the tracker I have placed on her wheelchair. In the event that Master Lelouch is killed, I will begin with Contingency 3."

This was not the first time Ruben had heard of this plan. It was, in fact, one of the first things Lelouch had conspired to create with him when he first came to the Academy. He was certainly a sight to behold, sitting across the aged noble in his tattered clothes, looking like the very image of calmness as he explained, in great detail, what his plans for the future were.

Back then, both families were reeling from the loss of Marianne vi Britannia. While Lelouch and Nunnally had lost their mother, the Ashfords had lost a close friend and their patron. With her gone, it didn't take long for them to fall out of grace with the Emperor, and they were summarily stripped of their titles and lands.

"Very good." Ruben said. "I have faith in your abilities to care for Nunnally in the absence of Lelouch. Now go. I will lock down the Clubhouse and clear out their rooms." He said. "It was due for a renovation anyway."

Renovation. A fire then. "Take care, sir." Sayoko said evenly, curtseying before leaving.

Ruben sighed as she left, then looked up, as if to seek guidance from God. "The game of thrones has begun. I am counting on you Lelouch. Make Marianne proud."

* * *

Lelouch waved at his "fans" who had congregated to see him off. Half of these were nobles currying for favor with the Lost Prince of Britannia. The other half were adolescent school girls who had fantasies of being swept off their feet by Prince Charming. In a show of uncharacteristic discipline, he managed to keep his face clear from the obvious disdain he felt.

He gave a final nod to Clovis, who was easy to spot in the crowd with his robes practically screaming "Look at me!" For a moment, he noted, with amusement, the similarities between his brother and a peacock, before boarding the jet. Once he was seated comfortable, his thoughts drifted to the Emperor.

He was distinctly aware of his precarious position within the Imperial Hierarchy. His mother had been a commoner, as such, he held no place in nobility himself if not for his father's blood. Considering that he had lost his favor all those years ago, it meant that a baron's son might expect to be treated better than him at this point. The fact that he had only been "found" recently certainly didn't help. His half brothers and sisters had years to prepare and establish themselves as contenders for the throne. Very few of them would actually be pleased with his continued existence and most would see him as a threat to be dealt with.

Still, he wasn't completely without help. The Ashfords, stripped as they were of their title, still supported him in secret. Their loyalty to his line did not end with his mother, and, Lelouch vowed, if he made it through this alive, he'd reward them accordingly. Being a "wild card", he wouldn't be attacked right off the bat either. Many would wait for him to make the first move.

That brought a smile to Lelouch's face. The first move meant momentum would be on his side. In chess, 2 out of 3 games were won, given players of more or less equal skill, by white simply because of the first move advantage. In the hands of a master strategist, it was a godsend.

Being new to the political arena also meant that those who were dissatisfied with their current status would flock to him if they thought he was worth backing. Now all he had to figure out was a way for him to capitalize on his current popularity and neutrality.

Lelouch pressed the intercom button on his armrest that would open a channel between him and the pilot.

"Your Highness, what can I do for you?"

"Captain, when are we expected to land in Pendragon?" Pendragon was the name of the Empire's Capital. There the Emperor and the Royal family resided, officially, when not required elsewhere.

"In twenty hours, Your Highness." Lelouch glanced at his watch. It was 2 in the afternoon now. Factoring in time zone shifts, he would arrive at the Capital at 8 pm. The Imperial Court ended at 6. He'd have to wait an entire night before meeting with the Emperor.

"And how soon can we get there?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I assume we are not flying at maximum speed, Captain. Is that correct?" Lelouch asked.

"Yes, but-"

"Then if we were to travel as fast as possible, how soon can we get to Pendragon? It is urgent that I arrive there as soon as I can, Captain."

"Uhh...it would be at least sixteen hours if we pushed the engines, sir." The pilot responded nervously. Lelouch could hear him fidgeting in his seat.

"Very well, Captain. Kindly do so." Lelouch ordered. "Don't worry. I take full responsibility for this decision, Captain." He said warmly, doing his best to reassure the Captain.

"I...yes sir." The pilot closed the intercom and activated the speakers in its place. "All passengers, please strap yourselves in. We may experience some turbulence in the next few minutes. Thank you."

Lelouch grinned, and began preparing himself mentally for the dreaded meeting with daddy dearest.

Oh joy.

* * *

"...len..."

"...om...n...len..."

"Come in, Kallen." The radio crackled.

"This is Kallen." The spunky redhead replied.

"We lost the gas at Shinjuki." The half Japanese girl winced, as if she been physically slapped by those very words. Planning for the operation to capture the poison gas being developed by the Britannian government had taken them months. It was doubtful they'd ever get this opportunity again. "The Viceroy has renewed his hunt on us now that the new Prince is gone."

"What are your orders?"

"Keep a low profile. Go back to that school of yours. I'll contact you before the week's out to see if the situation has changed."

Kallen slammed her fist into the wall, not even bothered by the pain of the impact. "Copy that, Ohgi. Kallen out."

* * *

"We sure sent those rebels running fast." A man with a distinctly Australian accent remarked, puffing his chest out. "It's a shame too. I was hoping for a bit of a challenge."

"You'll get your challenge once we go up against the Japan Liberation Front, Kewell." A dark skinned woman responded.

"..." Beside them, Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald remained silent, focused on his musings.

"What's up with Jeremiah?" Kewell asked pointedly.

"The line of vi Britannia has returned." Jeremiah replied, as if those words said it all. To those who knew his history, it probably did.

"What of it?" Kewell asked dismissively. "They're only nobility by a technicality."

The dark skinned woman glared at him sharply. "Nobility is still nobility."

Kewell smirked. "Ah, that's right. I had forgotten about your pedigree, Villetta. My apology." He said with a mocking nod, not the least bit sincere.

"I used to be a guard for the Empress Marianne." Jeremiah continued. "I was there when she was killed."

Kewell regarded his statement silently. "I see."

"Do you really, Soresi?"

Kewell nodded. "Your vows as a Knight of Marianne bind you to the young Prince, does it not?" He asked rhetorically. "What now? I'm certain no one will hold against you if you choose not to return to his service."

Jeremiah frowned. "It's not that. I have a duty to uphold to them."

"Gottwald, be reasonable!" Kewell exclaimed. "The boy is a target. He'll bring down those around him with his presumably short life left."

"All the more reason for me to join him." Jeremiah replied with conviction, pounding his chest as if accepting a challenge. "If I abandon his Highness at the hour of his need, then I will have been derelict in my duty not once, but twice. All these years, I have been looking for a chance to redeem myself for failing to protect the Empress. I had thought that by serving another in the Royal Family to hunt down terrorists, I could do so. But now...now I have a chance to atone for my sins. Now, I have been given a second chance. If I am to ignore this blessing which God has seen fit to send me, then it shall become a curse that will weight me down for the rest of my life."

Kewell clapped mockingly. "That's an inspiring speech, Jeremiah. Really, it almost brought a tear to my eye. Still, you would throw away all we have worked for in the Purist faction for your vows? I cannot fault you for that, but as your friend, I must bring to your attention the consequences of such an action. Is it not your duty, as a Knight of vi Britannia, to go where your Lord commands? What if he decides you are of more use to him here then with him in Pendragon?" Kewell replied rhetorically. "I'm not saying you shouldn't go to him. Just don't burn your bridges just yet. You may end up regretting it."

"You show remarkable wisdom in the matter, Kewell." Villetta remarked.

He shot her an easy smile and gave them a dramatic bow. "I do try."

Jeremiah frowned at them. "I had not considered that option. Very well, I will do this through the proper channels."

* * *

The Pendragon Imperial Palace hadn't changed with the years.

The grand, oak double doors, the domed, high ceiling, the ornate marble flooring...and the sycophantic nobles, gossiping among each other behind gloved hands and fans.

He certainly hadn't missed the condescension in their whispers every time he appeared at court. With clenched fists, he strode forward with his head high, pointedly ignoring the murmurs around him. He had not forgotten what happened the last time he had been here.

"___I am sending you and Nunnally to Japan, as prince and princess, you will serve well as bargaining tools._" 

That's right. He was nothing but a tool to his father. A pawn to be used, then discarded when the time was right. Lelouch smirked mirthfully. Be careful father. Haven't you heard? If you send the pawn to the enemy's line, it may just come back as a Queen

Ten steps away from the Imperial Throne, Lelouch dropped to one knee with his right arm crossed over his chest, and the left around his back. "Hail Your Majesty! I, Lelouch vi Britannia, have returned. I humbly ask that you forgive my past transgressions." Knowing his conceited father, demanding justice against his mother's killers was now considered a transgression. He stole a glance at his father from the cover of his bangs.

The man had the audacity to smile!

"Welcome back, _my son._" Lelouch went numb at his words. He had expected anger or indifference...but a welcome? With those four words, his position as a member of the Royal Family was cemented. His father had acknowledged it himself. It had bought him some time, at least, from the schemes of nobles. Though, to be honest, he did not know whether he preferred being at the mercy of nobles or being at the mercy of his father. "Where is the Princess?"

Lelouch gritted his teeth. "She was killed during the war, _father._ The foundations of the building we were in collapsed before I could get her out."

_"I have no use for that weakling."_

Yes, that was how things were done here...for now. He had to remember that. Only that strong survive. He could not afford to be complacent now.

"I suppose, given her handicaps, it was not unexpected." He answered, not sounding the least bit sympathetic. "But you...you were strong and so you survived."

"Yes, Your Majesty. It is as you say." It took all his willpower not to wrangle his father's neck right now. If not for the fact that he'd probably fail...

"Tell me, Lelouch, how do you plan to be of service to the Empire now?" Charles leaned forward, showing a surprising amount of interest in his answer.

That was right. Only those who were of use the Emperor were accepted. As little as Lelouch had meant to his father all those years ago, Nunnally was worth infinitely less. Given her crippled state, she was nothing more than dead weight, a purposeless lump of flesh that could not even be married off for political gain.

"If it pleases your Majesty, I wish to serve the Empire on the fields of war. I can think of no higher honor than to protect Britannia from its foes."

"Stand Lelouch." Lelouch stood up, meeting his father's calculating gaze unflinchingly. "Why is it that you have returned?" He asked, ignoring his previous answer.

Lelouch tried to quell the panic that was rising in his chest. Had his father seen through his ploy so easily? "I was found by Clovis. He was adamant that I return."

Nunnally, this is for you.

"And had he not insisted?" The Emperor pressed.

"I would have remained in Area Eleven in obscurity." Lelouch answered frankly. He was going to get it now.

Surprisingly, the Emperor smiled. He seemed...pleased by his answer. "Why is that?" The interrogation continued.

"Because you sent me to Japan as a political tool, your Majesty. My use to you ended with the conquest of Japan."

Charles leaned back into his throne, contemplating his response. "You are clever, Lelouch. Clever and pragmatic, but still presumptuous as ever. Your use to me ends when I say it does." He paused to stare at him. His black, soulless eyes seemed to pierce through Lelouch. "You are still useful to the Empire and to _me._" He ended with a tone of finality that allowed no further discussion. "It pleases me to have another son in the army. Still, do not think that it will be an easy task. You will have to work hard for your rank, and being a member of the Royal Family will not excuse you from the duties of a soldier."

Lelouch nodded, accepting his words. He hadn't expected any less.

"But," Charles continued. "you will make a fine soldier of Britannia. Go forward, with my blessing." Lelouch tensed at the unexpected praise.

Lelouch bowed low in a show of absolute obedience. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Charles nodded to himself, satisfied with the outcome. "The Court is dismissed." He declared, rising from his seat. He brushed past the still bowing prince, whispering as he did. "Do not fail me." It was said ever so slightly that none but he would hear it. It was a promise and a threat.

Lelouch remained silent and waited for his father to walk out before allowing himself to stand again. The nobles were already filing out at this point, discussing the most recent turn of events.

Once the court was more or less cleared, his half brothers and sisters in attendance surged forward. Lelouch had barely an instant to recognize the blur of pink hair that slammed into him. "Lelouch! I've missed you!" Tentatively, Lelouch returned the embrace that threatened to cut off his air supply.

"Give him some space, Euphie. He's only just arrived." Lelouch recognized the voice as that of Cornerlia's. She was a tall woman, standing at 6'3" with dark pink hair and dressed in an officer's uniform. Unlike that of Clovis', hers was functional, and a _very _real sword remained sheathed by her side. She was a true soldier, more than a match for the most hardened men in combat. "The Witch of Britannia" she was called by those who had the misfortune of fighting her.

Cornelia pulled away her overenthusiastic sister, before embracing Lelouch herself. "Welcome back, brother. I returned as soon as I received word." The children of Empress Gabrielle had always been on good terms with the spawn of Marianne. It seemed time had not caused any lost love between them.

Cornelia eyed him, then frowned. "You're too skinny. Do they not feed you enough?" She doted.

"Oh stop sheltering the boy, Cornelia. He's a man now." A young woman with vibrant gray hair said. "I can't imagine how dreadful it must have been dealing with all those numbers. I hope they weren't too much for you."

"You get used to them after awhile, Guinevere." Lelouch replied, correctly identifying her sister after a moment's thought. It was apparent to him that they remained out of touch with reality, as ever. As if dealing with commoners was the most difficult thing about living outside the Imperial Family. The delusion of the Royal Family had not declined either, apparently.

"What's this about joining the army though?" Cornelia asked. "Do you have a death wish?"

"Your faith in me is touching, Cornelia." Lelouch replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes as she slipped into her role of overprotective sister, one that was usually reserved for her younger sister Euphemia.

Cornelia frowned. "I didn't mean it like that, but the battlefield is a dangerous place."

"So? You're a general and you still take to the field in your Knightmare." Lelouch shot back. Generals, by practice, were not field officers, and thus, had no obligation to fight beside their men.

"I doubt you could stomach it." Carline inserted condescendingly.

"Lelouch will make a fine soldier." That voice was one Lelouch would recognize anywhere. Schneizel. "Personally, I think it was the better choice. A far superior use of his abilities as a tactician over becoming mere breeding stock for the family." Schneizel always did think like him, given their common love for chess.

"Now, enough with this talk. Let us proceed to the _feast_ to celebrate our brother's return." Schneizel declared. Feast. Stay behind the group. It was a code from their earlier days.

"Ladies first." Lelouch said quickly, letting his sisters past first, trailing behind the group with his brother.

"I meant what I said about your choice." Schneizel began.

Lelouch grinned. "You always were able to know what I was thinking. Do you know what I plan to do now?"

"Long term, I'd say somewhere along the lines of getting revenge on Father." Schneizel mentioned without much care. "Don't look at me like that. It's obvious to anyone with a brain that you hate him for abandoning you and causing the death of Nunnally. Your secret is safe with me. Short term, I suppose you plan on joining the Army in training with the intent of becoming an officer in an active zone. When do you leave?"

"Astute as ever. I leave tomorrow for Montreal."

"Oh? Why not the Pendragon Academy of War?" Schneizel asked curiously.

"I have many enemies in Pendragon, you know this."

"Still, with my protection, you should be safe from harm." He pointed out.

And be a pawn under your thumb? I think not. "Right now, I'm a potential rallying point for dissenting nobles, but before I can step into the role, I need to establish myself as a credible individual without getting too tied down by politics. Enrolling in Area 2 allows me to distance myself sufficiently, while not being so far that my education will be discounted."

"And once you succeed, you'll return a hero with a base of supporters to draw on." Schneizel concluded. "A bold strategy. But you have enemies within the Military Hierarchy as well. Generals who would rather you fail or, better yet, die."

"I can handle them." Lelouch replied with certainty.

"I have no doubt about that, but if you ever need help..." He trailed off.

"I'll know who to ask."

Schneizel smiled, holding out a hand to him. "You know my bid for the throne, don't you? I could use someone like you."

Lelouch snorted. "I'm not interested in becoming a pawn again."

"A pawn? You underestimate your own value. You are as much a king as I am."

"Then why would you need me?"

"When the time comes, brother, I cannot be everywhere at once. I will need someone I can trust to make necessary decisions, not a tool. I will need partners, not followers."

"Partners?" Lelouch repeated, unable to believe what he was hearing.

"Yes, partners. Help me to the throne, and I'll give you anything you wish."

It was a tempting offer, but Lelouch was uncertain of who to trust. Everyone in court had an agenda. Still, to move forward without friends in high places was suicide, and who was higher than the Prime Minister of the Empire? He would be able to pull strings at the critical time. Lelouch grasped the outstretched hand with his own. "Deal."

Schneizel smiled. "Shall we then?" He gestured towards the banquet that was about to take place.

The board was set for the game. Now, it's time to move the pieces.

_"The entry of Lelouch vi Britannia into the Imperial Army is, undoubtedly, one of the most revolutionary events in the history the Holy Britannian Empire. He was famous for numerous reforms such as the "KINGS" and "KNIGHTS" initiatives and was an ardent advocate of conventional weaponry. He is considered, by and large, as one of the most brilliant strategists of our time and is remembered for his theory on military army compositions, more commonly known as the Diversification Doctrine, which was used to devastating effect in North Africa (Area 17) and the Middle East (Area 18)."_

_-excerpt from: Chapter 23: The Anti-Knightmare Initiative. A History of Warfare by Field Marshal Alexander Wayne Smith_

_"His choice to enter into the military academy of Area 2 over the capital came as a shock to all of us. Still, in hindsight, it was a move that would define his entire military career." - Cornelia li Britannia _

**AN: So that's Chapter 1. Tell me what you think and leave a comment below  
^^**


	2. Placing the Pieces

**AN: 3 sleepless nights and close to 11.5K words later, we are at chapter two. The next chapter will be the end of the Introductory Arc and hopefully propel the story forward. WOOHOO! - 10-24-2013  
**

**DISCLAIMER: In case you missed it in Chapter 1, I still do not own Code Geass.**

**Chapter 2: Placing the Pieces**

_Britannian Military Training:  
Basic Army Training: 70 Days  
Day 01: Orientation and Organization  
Day 02: Military Drill and Discipline  
Day 07: Weapon Familiarization and Maintenance  
Day 15: Transportation and Team Exercises  
Day 21: Squad Based Combat Simulations  
Day 35: Orienteering and Navigation  
Day 43: Bivouac (Camping)  
Day 45: Basic Survival and First Aid  
Day 52: Unarmed Combat  
Day 60: Final Physical Test  
Day 61: Knightmare Simulation and Preparation for Graduation  
Day 65: Knightmare Combat Simulation  
Day 70: Graduation_

_Officer Training: 35 Days  
Day 01: Orientation and Organization  
Day 02: Britannian Army Doctrine  
Day 06: Information Gathering and Analysis  
Day 12: Leadership  
Day 18: Military Tactics and Strategy  
Day 25: Platoon Based Combat Simulations  
Day 30: Company Based Combat Simulations  
Day 35: Graduation_

_Daily Schedule:__  
__0530: First Call__  
__0600: Physical Training (PT)__  
__0630: Breakfast__  
__0700: Training__  
__1200: Lunch__  
__1230: Training__  
__1730: Dinner__  
__1800: Drill Sergeant Time__  
__1830: Personal Time__  
__2100: Lights Out  
_

_-excerpt from: Britannian Army Training, 19th Ed._

* * *

Lelouch stood atop of the rolling staircase dressed in his uniform, his bag slung behind him. He paid the crowd that had gathered below little attention. It was a scene eerily similar to his departure from Japan. The crowd, however, now had a far greater percentage of school girls than nobles and was noticeably smaller than the party yesterday.

"You really are a workaholic." Euphemia said playfully. "You've been in Pendragon for less than a day, and now you're going away again." She pouted. "Are you sure you can't stay a little longer?" She asked, grabbing a handful of his shirt possessively.

Lelouch chuckled. "If I delay any longer, I'll miss out completely from school. I've already missed the first three weeks of Basic Training already. Even that's pushing it for a member of the Royal Family."

"To hell with Basic!" She swore uncharacteristically, a faint blush appearing on her cheeks. "It's still 2 AM." She gestured at the sky, where the moon was just beginning its descent. "Even Cornelia called you insane for waking up at this ungodly hour to go to _Military School_ of all places, and she's the soldier of the family."

Lelouch wagged his finger at her. "Language, dear Euphie." Smirking cheekily, he continued. "Swearing is unbecoming of a princess."

Euphemia stuck her tongue out. "Take care, Lelouch. Clovis sends his regards." She pulled him into an embrace as a sudden flash light blinded Lelouch. The press had arrived, which signalled it was time for him to get going. Reporters were some of the most relentless people on Earth. No doubt within the hour, news of his departure for Montreal would be all over the news.

"I will." Lelouch promised solemnly, extracting himself from his favourite half sibling in the family. He stepped onto the plane that, less than twenty four hours ago, had brought him to the Imperial Capital, and reacquainted himself with his seat. He dropped his bag on the floor and leaned back to relax. It was rather ironic that he had spent more time on Clovis' private jet than he had in the Imperial Capital.

He pressed the intercom to activate it once again. "Prince Lelouch, welcome aboard. Please strap yourself in as we will be taking off in two minutes."

Lelouch tugged on the seatbelt to his side and secured himself with a click. "Roger that Captain. And do hurry up; I'd hate to be late for my first day in school."

"Not a problem, Your Highness. We'll be in Montreal by 4 AM, sir."

"Very good, Captain." Lelouch replied, barely keeping himself from yawning. "I'm going to get some shut eye before we arrive."

"Yes, Your Highness. Shall I send someone to wake you before we arrive?"

"I'd appreciate that."

"Very good, sir. Enjoy your rest."

"Thank you, Captain." With that, he released his finger from the intercom button to cut off the line. Within seconds, his thoughts drifted towards more pleasant times. He dreamed of a day when he would be reunited with his sister.

* * *

Sayoko shot a sideward glance at her crippled ward to ensure she was still sound asleep, before refocusing her attention on the road. There were very few vehicles on the road at this time of day, allowing them to travel at over a hundred miles per hour without a problem. They had departed from the school just past midnight and the city of Hiroshima was now in sight.

"Sayoko, where are we going?" A curious Nunnally asked suddenly.

Her years of training prevented any sign of surprise from showing or even affecting her performance. "To the Ashford Vacation House, Mistress."

From the corner of her eye, she could see Nunnally's lips twitch downwards. "Why?"

"Master Lelouch requested us to be there." Sayoko replied, directing the car to exit the highway and enter the city proper.

Nunnally paused, before speaking up again. "Big brother…he was caught wasn't he? By the Britannian military?" She more stated than asked.

Once again, Sayoko was impressed by the quick and accurate conclusion of the younger vi Britannia. Analysis was a remarkable trait that the siblings shared. Despite being blind and kept in the dark, both figuratively and literally, Nunnally was still able to read the situation with ease. "Yes, Nunnally. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your fault he was caught. Big brother always was too reckless for his own good." Nunnally said. "Has there been any news about him?"

"He left for Pendragon yesterday afternoon after he was proclaimed alive on national television." Sayoko reported dutifully. "He last called last night, just before we left. Apparently, he's been welcomed back to the Imperial Court by the Emperor. He should be on a plane right now headed to Montreal where he will begin his Basic Training with the Military."

"He joined the Military?" Nunnally asked disbelievingly. "But he hates exercise! Still, I suppose he's aiming for an officer position." The girl mused loudly. "In that case, he'll be alright. Big brother can't be bested on the field." She stated confidently. Her unquestionable faith in her brother's ability was encouraging, and it brought a slight smile to Sayoko.

"You should get some more rest, Nunnally. It'll be another hour until we get to the house." Sayoko said.

Nunnally yawned. "I suppose you're right. Good night, Sayoko. Do get some rest once we've settled down." She said before returning to her dreams. She dreamed of the day when she would be reunited with her brother.

To her side, her protector remained ever vigilant in her role.

* * *

The sun still hadn't deigned to appear by the time Lelouch was back on the ground. The prince reached for the sky to stretch his arms and get his blood flowing again. Before he stood from his seat, he activated the intercom one last time. "Thanks for the ride, Captain. Have a safe flight back to Area Eleven." Lelouch greeted warmly.

"Thank you, Your Highness. It was a pleasure to serve you." The Captain replied genuinely. Very few people spent time to talk with the Captain during flights. Almost none of the royal family did.

Lelouch grabbed his bag and headed for the door, nodding in thanks to the stewardess that unlatched the door for him. At the base of the stairs was a black Range Rover, a pair of guards waiting to escort him to the military academy. Lelouch frowned. He didn't remember asking for a pair of guards to accompany him. Then again, it was probably protocol for him to have guards everywhere as a member of the Royal Family. He shrugged off their appearance and ignored their perfunctory greeting. He strode to the SUV casually and took his seat, taking care not to dishevel his newly donned army fatigue.

The uncomfortable, heavy, green jacket weighed heavily on him, not just physically but metaphorically. He tugged at it distastefully, straightening out the folds. Just the very act of wearing it was a stain on his conscience. To a Britannian, the uniform was a symbol solidarity and might. To the subjugated citizens of the Empire, it was a symbol of tyranny and prejudice.

A group of men, dressed in the same garbs as he was wearing now, lined up civilians with their back to the wall. Men, women, children and the elderly were shot simply for being Japanese – there were no exceptions to the cruelty of the military. From his concealed position on the roof of an apartment, Lelouch watched as the soldiers engaged in all manners of depravity, while clamping a whimpering Suzaku's mouth shut to prevent him from drawing any attention to themselves. It sickened him to remember the atrocities committed all those years ago.

Lelouch swore he would never become like these _monsters. _That he would never stoop so low as to become like his enemies. He might have made a pact with the devil, but he hadn't sold his soul away yet. He would try to keep his humanity. Nunnally would never forgive him otherwise.

The thought of his sister's condemnation steeled his resolve even further.

At the heart of the Britannian war machine commonly referred to as the army was a system as broken and as corrupt as the nobility. For all the stirring rhetoric the Emperor spouted about being a Meritocracy, the Empire, and by extent, the Army was nothing more than an Autocracy. People were not judged based on their actions, but by their birth and status in society. The incompetent son of a Britannian baron could easily attain the rank of Captain, while the most brilliant Number would be hard pressed to attain the same. It was a distasteful concept that he held in contempt, and one that Lelouch would have to live by for the next few years. No doubt he would be a general by the end of his second year, at the latest. Despite his father's insistence that he would have to earn his rank, in practice, that was an impossible notion. His superiors would grant him promotions at every possible interval in the hopes of gaining favor and political clout. Still, he wasn't about to reject their "kindness" and earn the enmity of the brass.

They travelled to the Military Academy in silence, and Lelouch took the opportunity to observe what had been dubbed as the Cultural Capital of Area 2. While discrimination against the Numbers still existed, and, in general, Number culture was frowned upon, Area 2 was one of the few good places to live in outside of Britannia itself. Discrimination and suppression were at a minimum and the entire populace lived under the Honorary Britannian system. The region was a crown colony of the Empire – a shining example of what every area could and ought to be. In exchange, all the natives had to do was bow their heads and prostate themselves completely to the whims of the Empire.

It was no wonder most areas decided to enter into armed rebellion at one point or another. But for all its faults, the Britannian military _was _strong and it _was _capable. The Holy Britannian Empire did not become master of a third of the world by asking people to surrender their freedom and throwing money at politicians alone - though it did help.

The car slowed to a crawl before stopping completely in front of the Military Academy of Montreal, affectionately referred to by the rank and file as "MAM". Lelouch got out of the car and stared at the building in front of him uncertainly. It was a sensation not unlike returning to the Imperial Family alone. Only this time, the people around him would well and truly be strangers.

Choosing not to dwell on such matters, he straightened his back as much as he could and walked into the building to get himself admitted. The soldier manning the reception desk was dressed in a formal military uniform with three stacked, upward pointing arrows embroidered into the man's epaulettes – the insignia of a sergeant. The man scowled and eyed Lelouch up and down, before finally recognizing who was standing in front of him. He stood abruptly, sending his chair into the floor with a "thud", and brought his arm up in a salute.

"Your Highness!" The soldier barked gruffly in surprise.

Lelouch shot the man an easy smile and gestured for him to be at ease. "I've made arrangements to enlist here."

"Sir?" The man questioned, uncertain if he was being tricked and unsure how to proceed. Admitting a member of the Royal Family wasn't an everyday occurrence, and therefore, had no standard operating procedure. To treat him like any other cadet would have been unwise, especially since it involved cussing at him. "This isn't a Royal Military Academy." He stated matter-of-factly.

"I am aware of that." Lelouch replied. "I believe a Major Cromwell was briefed about me."

"I'll call him right away, sir." The sergeant replied, picking up the phone on his desk and punching in a number. The phone call was followed by a minute of awkward silence and waiting as the sergeant stood at attention before the prince.

Thankfully, it wasn't long before the major arrived on scene. His hair was akin to that of ash, with slivers of golden yellow interspersed amongst the graying hair. He had a clean shaven face and sported a military cut that would no doubt be imposed on Lelouch soon enough. Most noticeable were the dark bags beneath the major's eyes. "At ease, Wilson." He said, permitting the sergeant to relax. He turned to return Lelouch's poorly executed salute with his own. "Private vi Britannia, if you'll follow me to my office."

His office, it turned out, was a very short walk from the reception desk. It was a sparsely furnished room with a desk and two chairs being the center of attraction. The wall nearest to the desk was host to three filing cabinets stacked on top of each other. The Major took a seat behind the desk and gestured for Lelouch to take a seat on one of the chairs, before sliding a manila folder towards the prince.

Lelouch opened the folder, and began filling out the application, while the grim major observed him like some caged zoo animal. "May I be open with you, Your Highness?" Cromwell requested.

"Go ahead." Lelouch answered without sparing the man a glance. "And call me Lelouch, or Private vi Britannia. No need to address me so formally."

"Why Basic Training? Our academy has an officer's program, and you would be more than qualified to enroll there now."

"May I be open with _you, _Major Cromwell?" It was not a request, but a question of trust.

"Of course, Your...Of course, Private." The major corrected himself. "Nothing you say here will ever leave this room." The major assured him.

Lelouch finished filling up the first page of his application, before setting his pen aside. "Your officer's program begins in two weeks time."

"That is correct." Cromwell confirmed.

"I needed an excuse to get out of Pendragon now - not in two weeks." Lelouch grabbed the pen and continued working on his application.

Cromwell frowned at him. "Why?"

Lelouch toyed with the thought of explaining his plan to the major in detail, before discarding the idea promptly. "Those reasons are personal, sir. I hope you understand if I don't say anymore about the matter?" Though phrased as a request, the tone used said otherwise.

"Very well, Private. But, if given the chance, would you be open to shifting to the officer's program early… hypothetically speaking, of course." The major asked with a sly grin.

Lelouch tilted his head ever so slightly, studying the man's features. "I would jump at the opportunity." He finished the second page with an elegant flourish of the pen, affixing his name on the bottom of the paper. "Are you saying it's possible, sir?"

"It can be arranged." The major answered, looking quite pleased with himself. "The officer's program that will start in two weeks is open to those individuals showing an _exceptional _grasp on tactics and strategy in Basic. You would not be the first to get into such an accelerated program."

Lelouch weighed the offer in his mind. It certainly was a tempting choice. "How many get into the program per batch?"

"Around 1 in every 100 soldiers is accepted which means we are expecting…" the major's eyes rolled up as he made some quick mental calculations, "20 people to get in."

Lelouch nodded to himself. It seemed an easy enough task to accomplish. "I'd like to try getting into the program based on my own merits first, sir."

"Are you certain? You're already at a distinct disadvantage given the fact that you arrived late for Basic. That will count heavily against you in the selection process."

"I understand your concerns, sir." Lelouch began. "And I would appreciate it if you helped even things out so that I'd start on equal footing with everyone else. However, I ask that you do not tip the scales in my favor too much, or it would be apparent to everyone that this was a politically motivated decision. That would reflect badly on my record, sir."

"Let me get this straight." The major leaned forward, resting his chin on his intertwined fingers. "You don't want to be discounted out of the process for your tardiness, but you don't want your entry to be a sure thing either?" Lelouch nodded and the major chuckled. "You are a strange one, Prince Lelouch."

"Is it really uncommon for a son of Britannia to rise based on merit instead of social standing?"

"No, but it is uncommon for a son of Britannia _not _to take full advantage of his social standing." Cromwell said. "Nonetheless, I'll defer to your wishes in this matter. Dismissed, Private vi Britannia."

Lelouch slammed the manila folder shut and slid it back to the major, before standing to execute a crisp salute.

* * *

"My name is Kallen Stadtfeld. It's nice to meet all of you." Kallen said through gritted teeth and lips forced upward into a smile. She placed her right foot in front so that her legs were overlapping and - while her hands were clasped behind her - bended her knees. It was a textbook curtsy that had been drilled into her by Mrs. Stadtfeld. This was the second time today she had to subject herself to this Britannian custom.

"Ms. Stadtfeld, why don't you take a seat beside Ms. Ashford?" The teacher instructed.

Kallen inclined her head towards Mr. Hanson slightly in a gesture of respect, before moving to her assigned seat. She vaguely remembered the blonde-haired girl as being both the president of the student council and the granddaughter of the superintendent. In short, a very prominent figure in Area Eleven's most prestigious secondary education academy. She smiled politely at her, which was returned by Ashford immediately, before taking her seat.

"Today, we will be covering 18th century Britannian History in preparation for our exam tomorrow." Kallen rolled her eyes at the synchronized groan that erupted from the students. The exam itself was a walk in the park compared to her "extra-curricular activities." She kept to herself for the most part of the class in order to maintain the persona of a sick girl, speaking up only when she was called by the teacher. This didn't occur very often as she was able to answer his questions exhaustively. Before she knew it, both hands of the clock had aligned at "12", signalling the end of their oh-so-useful review.

As soon as the bell rang, her seatmate turned towards her. The ever perky Milly Ashford, a name which Kallen had committed to memory as soon as it was stated by Mr. Hanson, extended a hand towards her. "Milly Ashford, student council president. You're Kallen Stadtfeld." She began chattily.

"Yes." was Kallen's laconic reply. She grudgingly shook the blonde's hand out of courtesy.

"Have you given any thought as to which club you want to join?" Milly asked.

"Club?" Kallen repeated, obviously confused.

Milly nodded her head fervently. "Oh yes, all students are required to join a club. Is there one in particular that's caught your eye?"

"No." Kallen replied, maintaining the monosyllabic nature of her responses.

"I thought so." Milly said, tapping her chin contemplatively. "You're frequently absent due to your sickness, so I don't think you'd be suited for one of the more physically challenging groups." She mused.

Kallen stopped herself from snorting. She could easily cut it in any of those clubs to be certain. School clubs like the Equestrian Society and the Track and Field Team were a cakewalk compared to urban warfare. Still, she couldn't very well get rid of her perfect excuse to cut school.

Milly snapped her finger, her eye's lighting up. "I've got it! You can join the student council with me." She concluded, placing an arm around Kallen.

"I'm not sure about this…"

"Don't worry about it." Milly reassured her with a conspiratory wink. "It won't take up too much of your time and the other members can cover for you during your sick days. Come on, I'll introduce you to the others over lunch." Milly grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the room excitedly.

Kallen allowed herself to be dragged off, not too excited by the prospect, but not entirely against it either. Student Council couldn't be that bad, right?

* * *

It was just past 5:30 in the morning when hell on earth began for the Eleventh Prince of the Empire.

"Fall in!"

A flurry of movement occurred in the barracks as privates moved, with almost robotic precision, to the base of their bunks, forming two straight lines facing inwards. Like a deer caught in the headlights, Lelouch looked around stupidly, unsure of where he should be.

The drill sergeant marched up to him in quick order, his face barely centimeters away from Lelouch's. He hastily adopted the pose of his comrades and stood at attention. "Well holy hell! So this is the new recruit! You finally bothered to show up, Princess!" He began derisively, apparently aware of Lelouch's status. "You may have been pampered with your servants and palaces back at Pendragon, but you're in My. Turf. Now." He violently jabbed Lelouch's chest to emphasize his last three words.

To his credit, Lelouch did not move an inch throughout the verbal barrage.

"Welcome to the military, Private vi Britannia!" The assembled privates stiffened at his words. "Drop and give me twenty!"

Wordlessly, Lelouch dropped on all fours and began. The sergeant crossed his arms and watched him do the pushups with a critical gaze, waiting for him to screw up, no doubt. Halfway through the torment, Lelouch felt the sergeant's foot on his back, pushing him down. He gritted his teeth, and endured, refusing to show weakness.

In his appalling physical state, he barely finished the exercise.

The sergeant took off his foot and allowed Lelouch to stand up. "My name's Sergeant Thompson and while you're here, you will treat my word as if it's from the great God Almighty himself! Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" Lelouch replied, matching the magnitude of the sergeant's voice.

"Just because your daddy is the Emperor, doesn't mean you get any special treatment around here, Private!" It was an obvious lie. If Lelouch had been anyone other than the Emperor's son, he would have been scolded and turned away for showing up three weeks late. "You've got a lot of work to make up for!"

"Private Wood!" The man snapped to attention with a stomp of his foot. "Private vi Britannia will be your responsibility!"

"Yes, Drill Sergeant!" Wood, while not too pleased with the assignment, kept his face placid and neutral.

"Thanks to Private vi Britannia here, PT begins in ten minutes! Fall out!" The drill sergeant bellowed, striding out of the room.

More than a few of the privates shot daggers at Lelouch for the extra pain he was about to cause them. "Alright vi Britannia, listen up! Rule number one, you address the drill sergeant as 'drill sergeant', not 'sir'." Wood began, not even sparing him a glance. "Rule number two, when the drill sergeant says he wants us ready in ten minutes, what he really means is he wants us ready in five." He unbuttoned his military fatigue with economic precision, turning to look at Lelouch. "Any questions? No? Well then get moving." He said without pause, giving Lelouch no chance to interrupt.

Lelouch followed suit and began stripping off his military fatigue to reveal a plain white shirt. He held the jacket at one hand and folded it neatly on the spare bed that he had claimed, before following the others out of the barracks. He quickly took his place at the end of one of the lines that had formed. As expected, he was the last one in.

"Move out!" The distinct voice of Sergeant Thompson cracked through the air like a whip. The men began their jog, making Lelouch even more aware of just how bad a state his body was in. It didn't take long for him to begin lagging behind the group and was a good ten minutes behind by the time most had finished the 5 kilometer run around a section of the base.

By the time they had settled into the mess hall for breakfast, Lelouch felt like every inch of his body had been turned to jelly. He shovelled in the gruel into his mouth, silently bearing the pain that the slightest movement caused him. "This seat taken?" Lelouch recognized the source as one of his new squad mates, and motioned for him to go ahead. "No offense meant, but you look like shit, Your Highness."

Despite the situation, Lelouch allowed himself to laugh. "I feel like it too. And please, it's just Lelouch. no need for the formality." He said casually.

"The name's Victor Wolfe, but everyone just calls me Vic. It's good to have you with us, Lelouch. We were scheduled to start SQUABCOMS today with a man short. With you here, we'll finally be on even footing with the others."

"SQUABCOMS?"

"Squad Based Combat Simulations." Victor explained patiently.

"I'm not sure of how much use I'll be to you guys." Lelouch said with a frown. "I've never even fired a gun before." The prince admitted.

"Even so, it helps even things out a bit. It's one more target that the others will have to take note of. If all else fails, we could always use you as a meat shield. I'm certain most of the guys around here would hesitate before shooting you." Victor joked. "And if it really bothers you, we can go to the shooting range now and pop a few rounds." He offered.

Lelouch stuffed the last of his mean into his mouth, before standing up. "Alright, let's go."

It felt odd to be holding a weapon that had been used less than a few days ago to coerce him. The Eisenheim-Krum 68 Assault Rifle was the primary firearm for most members of the infantry. Lelouch wasn't sure whether the gun was really heavier than it looked, or if it was just the fatigue that made it seem that way.

"The most important thing about shooting a single target is to hold in your breath before pulling the trigger. Otherwise, the bullet goes way off target." Victor said, peering through the scope of his rifle, before calmly pulling the trigger. The gun's roar sounded like thunder and sent a single bullet into the dead center of a target a twenty meters away.

"What if I'm facing more than one person?" Lelouch asked, taking aim at a target, before firing.

"Spray and pray." Victor shifted from a firing position to a standing one. "Running for cover also helps, on occasion." He watched as Lelouch let loose another round. "Try loosening your grip a little." He suggested. The next shot went straight through the red dot of the target and Lelouch nodded in thanks.

"So are we actually going to use real guns in the simulation?" He asked, switching his gun to semi-automatic. "It seems counter-intuitive for us to kill each other off halfway through Basic." A series of bullets erupted from his gun and mercilessly shredded the piece of paper he had been aiming at. He nodded in satisfaction as most of the bullets had landed within the inner ring.

"Nah, I hear we're going to be issued rifle simulators." Victor answered. "We should head back now. Sergeant Thompson will have both of our asses if we're even a second late." Lelouch had to agree. The Drill Sergeant was probably looking for an excuse to make his life harder. They arrived in the assembly area moments before the Sergeant ordered them to fall in. A series of abandoned buildings stood not far from their position in what was probably a simulation of street-to-street combat.

"Alright ladies, welcome to the first of many SQUABCOMS! This particular set up right here is for urban warfare. For those of you knuckleheads that are lacking a few brain cells, it means city fighting. I suggest you take this exercise seriously." The Sergeant looked down at the clipboard he was holding, tapping his pen on the base. "Ho, ho, looks like Wood's squad is up first against Haywood's."

His squad mates collectively swore. Lelouch wondered briefly if being in the military had the side effect of making people swear in unison. "Haywood's squad has been at the top of board for the last ten days now." Victor whispered. "Their captain holds the company record in marksmanship."

Lelouch scoffed. "So what if he can shoot a gun? Doesn't mean he knows anything about tactics."

"Alright team, huddle up." Wood called out, drawing them into a circle to discuss their strategy. "Haywood's team is going to wipe the floor with us out in the open. They've got us beat in marksmanship, so we'll need to take advantage of the cover. Vi Britannia, I hope you know how to shoot a gun by now?"

"Victor and I worked on it earlier."

Wood looked surprised and genuinely happy to hear that. "If we rush the building at the heart of the town, we'll gain a dominant position that will let us control the tempo of the fight."

Lelouch glanced at the building in question, studying it meticulously, then frowned. "That doesn't seem like a sound strategy." He stated before the group dispersed.

Wood glared at him angrily, the goodwill he'd gained from his voluntary marksmanship practice dissipating. "Explain." He said coldly.

"While it's true that the central building is the only one that's two stories tall, it's also a vulnerable position. We'd be stretched thin trying to cover all the entry points, while the other team would be free to concentrate their strength on one flank. We'd be at a distinct disadvantage trying to outshoot them that way."

Wood listened to his explanation patiently. "Well then, do you have a better idea?"

"I'd suggest we infiltrate a two man team into the central house then pull back everyone else to draw them in. We'll surround them from the outside then rush in, while the inside team wreaks havoc among the defenders."

"That's a risky move." Wood pointed out.

"All wars are won through risks." Lelouch countered without missing a beat. The rest of the squad shifted their gaze between the two, witnessing a silent battle of wills. The tension in the air was palpable.

"Squads into position!" Thompson bellowed, breaking the standoff.

"We stick to the original plan." Wood declared with a note of finality. "Let's move." Lelouch grudgingly accepted the decision. Wood was still the squad leader, and the military was nothing without the chain of command.

The opposing squads stepped forward to grab their simulation gear. Aside from the fake gun, they also had to strap on several components of armor. It seemed to have a plethora of sensors covering it, allowing it to "detect" the fake bullets and mimic the damage it would cause on the battlefield, by sending out a small electrical shock that would stun the affected part.

The two squads stood at opposite ends of the "town" and waited for the signal to begin the training exercise. Thompson withdrew the pistol holstered at his waist and raised it overhead. The twenty privates tensed in anticipation of the shot, and Lelouch lowered to a crouching position akin to that of a marathon runner.

Bang!

Ignoring his still throbbing thighs, Lelouch dashed forward towards the house, making a commendable effort of keeping up with his squad, but still ultimately falling behind. Up ahead, he saw Wood and three others of his squad storm the house. A few seconds later, the first shots had been fired. "Man down!" He heard one of his comrade's yell, the panic in his voice apparent.

"Keep firing! Let the bastards bleed for every inch of ground they take!" Wood replied in an equally loud voice. The amount of gunfire nearly doubled after that.

By the time Lelouch had reached his firing position, two others had already been taken out of action and another one had been injured. He could see the silhouette of their enemies moving from window to window in the other houses. As far as he could see, only one of them had been hit. "There are only eight of them." Lelouch said to no one in particular. "Where are the other two?"

As if to answer his question, the sound of gunfire erupted from the behind them followed by screams as he another three of his teammates bit the dust. Reacting purely on instinct, he spun around and began firing wildly, a lucky shot hitting one of the flankers in the chest and sending the other scrambling for cover. "We're being flanked!" Lelouch shouted.

"Tell us something we don't know!" Wood answered back, before he emptied his clip, and reached for another to reload his weapon. "Flankers eliminated!"

"The rest are moving in on us!" Victor cried out.

Lelouch made his way to Wood's position, crouching down beside him. "We're not going to win like this." He hissed to his leader, switching his gun to automatic and firing in an attempt to suppress the breaching party.

"I'm open to any suggestions at this point." Wood grunted, managing to take down another soldier. "We're down to four soldiers and they've still got six."

Victor barged into the room, panting heavily. "They got Stevens. We're the only ones left." He said grimly, shutting the door behind him.

Lelouch took out his clip and handed it to Wood. With narrowed eyes, Wood stared at the article, as if offended by the gesture. "What the hell are you doing?"

"We're not going to win like this." He repeated. "You two head to the second floor windows while I draw them out in the open."

Wood hesitantly accepted the clip. "And just how are you going to do _that_."

There was a pregnant pause before Lelouch replied. "I was thinking I'd give myself up." His two companions stared at him incredulously as he headed for the door. "Once I've got them occupied, you'll have a window to take out Haywood and whoever else is with him. You'll get one shot each before they start shooting back." His last instructions were barely audible as he closed the door, but to Wood, it was as loud as a megaphone. "Make it count." The three words echoed in his brain.

Victor turned to the squad leader. "Is he crazy?" He asked, still unable to fully comprehend what had just happened.

"The thing about crazy people," Wood began, as he placed the clip inside one of his pouches, "is that they're God damn geniuses if they win." He crept towards the door, silent as a mouse. "Follow me." He signalled with his hands.

Déjà vu was the phenomenon of having the strong sensation that an event or experience currently being experienced has been experienced in the past. It was a phenomenon Lelouch had become increasingly familiar with as he heard six EK-68 rifles pointed at him. He dropped his rifle and raised his hands in the air to show his surrender, hoping that they'd keep him as a POW rather than turn him into a KIA.

"I surrender." He said, a sheepish grin plastered onto his face. "The others retreated to the other side of town to make their last stand."

"And why didn't you join them?" Haywood stepped forward, sneering at the Prince.

Lelouch shrugged. "Why waste more lives on a lost battle? We'd achieve nothing with prolonged resistance." He answered pragmatically. "Are you just going to stand here and let them fortify their position? If you move now, you can cut them off."

Haywood didn't bother to hide the veil of disgust on his face. With a nod of his head, two of his companions surged forward to pursue the others. "You call yourself a Britannian?" He asked scornfully, lifting his gun to Lelouch's head. "We have no place for cowardi-."

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Haywood and one of his companions crumpled to the floor, their armour paralyzing them completely to simulate a kill. It was a downright shame that one of the bullets had missed.

Nonetheless, Lelouch wasted no time springing into action. He rolled to the floor and grabbed Haywood's discarded rifle in one fluid motion - wincing as his muscles shrieked at him to stop - and firing the gun as soon as his enemies were in sight. He managed to take down the other two, before he felt several tiny pellets collide with his back, inducing a full body paralysis. Apparently, the two who had been sent ahead returned as soon as they head the gunshots.

Wrong move. From their overhead position, it didn't take long for Wood and Wolfe to take out the last of their adversaries.

Lelouch felt the armor power down as the simulation ended, releasing him from his full body bind. His squad was being congratulated by members of the other groups when Sergeant Thompson ordered them back into formation.

"Private Wood, Private Wolfe, Private vi Britannia report!" He shouted angrily. What was it now? They had won the match, despite the underhanded tactic, hadn't they? It was still a valid tactic, honor be damned. "Can you explain to the company what just what happened _exactly_?" The venom in his voice was unmistakable.

"Private vi Britannia used himself as a bait to draw out the enemy unit, while Private Wolfe and myself remained from our concealed position to give him covering fire, Drill Sergeant!" Wood answered. From the corner of his eye, Lelouch could see Haywood glaring at him.

"And what was the _result _of your actions?"

"Victory, Drill Sergeant!" Lelouch could not help but admire his courage for answering back to the obviously vexed man.

"And?"

Wood paused. "I don't know, Drill Sergeant!" He answered, confused. The rest of the company murmured among themselves with the same tone.

"You let a member of the Royal Family get killed in action!" Thompson shouted. "Your squad's complete and utter incompetence led to the death of a Prince of Britannia! Does that SOUND like a victory to you, Private?"

"Yes, Drill Sergeant!" The silence that fell upon the company was deafening. It took Wood a moment to realize that the response had not come from him. It had come from Lelouch.

"Explain yourself, Private vi Britannia." The drill sergeant asked in a measured voice. He seemed calm and vaguely happy about the answer - ecstatic even.

"The objective was to achieve victory by annihilating the enemy squad! All other factors are secondary to this. A soldier must be willing to lay down his life for his country and his brothers! Despite being a prince, I am not exempt from this rule, Drill Sergeant. The situation demanded that I was an acceptable collateral for victory."

"And in a real combat situation, do you think the Emperor would be pleased to hear one of his sons had achieved victory at the cost of his own life?"

"If victory could not be gained through other means, then yes, Drill Sergeant! The good of the many outweighs the good of the few, Drill Sergeant!"

"Are you some sort of fucking philosopher, vi Britannia?" Thompson asked condescendingly.

"No, Drill Sergeant!"

"What are you then?"

"I am a soldier, Drill Sergeant!"

Thompson nodded at his answered approvingly. "Nevertheless, Private vi Britannia is correct. The completion of the mission must be our primary concern in battle. All others factors are secondary to victory." He glanced downward at his clipboard, before continuing. "Rogers and Warwick, you're next!"

The three soldiers took a step back and rejoined the rank, pleased by the outcome of the match. And if one looked closely enough, they would have seen the Eleventh Prince's lips formed into a slight smirk.

* * *

The climate in Tunis had been described as being a Mediterranean one, with temperatures ranging between 7° to 24° Celsius most of the year. What the generals had failed to mention was its scorching summer during August, where the temperature had hit 33° Celsius and rising. It wasn't even midday yet.

A few brave souls had dared to wander out and toil underneath the morning sun, away from the air-conditioned havens. The overwhelming majority of citizens residing in the capital of Area 17, however, preferred to stay indoors where they were safe from the sun's oppressive gaze.

Among those who had taken refuge from Mother Nature's wrath was Lieutenant Colonel Obadiah Ryze of the 2nd Quebec Imperial Regiment, which was the only Britannian military presence in Tunis and its surrounding areas. "I wonder how the poor sods manage it." He muttered to himself, as he watched the ant-sized humans move about below from the comfort of his chair. He turned his attention back to his work, which was essentially a supervisory role over the various technicians and specialists in the Tunis Imperial Command Center.

It was little better than the army's version of babysitting.

He propped his head up with his arm, slouching in his seat as he stared absentmindedly into the giant monitor in front of him. It showed the position of all military vehicles and knightmares relative to their own by way of the IFF system. He glanced at his watch and groaned silently. He had another two hours of supervisory duty to fulfill before he would be relieved and allowed back into the field where he belonged.

Upon his order of "Status report", the personnel in the room – his so called "assistants" – began typing furiously, every inch of air in the room filled with the sound of finger hitting keyboards, not unlike the buzzing of a bee. Images of different areas around the city popped up in his monitor, drowning out what had been on his screen but a few moments ago.

"TOI 1, green!" The lieutenant colonel snorted. That much was obvious, of course. TOI, or target of importance, was the auxiliary tactical system used to ensure the safety of certain things, as opposed to the Sector system which was primarily focused on dividing the city up according to geography and tactical significance. TOI 1 was the designation reserved for the headquarters of the military or, failing that, the largest military installation in any given area. If there had been trouble, then there were only two logical alternatives; either it would be dealt with quickly, or they were in deep shit.

"TOI 2, green!" That had been reserved for the administrative center of the Empire and was arguably even better protected than TOI 1 in some areas, especially area capitals, as it doubled as the viceroy's residence.

"TOI 3, green!" This was residence of most of Britannia's nobility, more often than not encircling the viceroy's palace; the heart of the political arena.

"TOI 4, green!" Britannian commoners chose to congregate, instead, around TOI 1 for the added protection proximity offered. They were not as prioritized as nobles in cases of mass violence, and, thus, mitigated this disadvantage by being located closer to help.

"TOI 5, green!" Public transportation hubs, like train stations, airports, naval harbors and bus terminals which were always terrorist favorites for sowing mass pandemonium.

"TOI 6, green!" The electrical grids and generators which powered the city, almost as essential to the city's survival as the military itself.

"TOI 7, green!" The water treatment facilities, hydroelectric dams and any other area that terrorists might be able to taint the water supply of the metropolis.

"TOI 8, green!" The walls and gates which marked the city proper's perimeter, designed to keep intruders out as much as it was designed to keep Honorary Britannians in.

"TOI 9, status yellow!" The ghettos and slums just outside the walls where extremists and terrorists hid, interspersed among the crowd of numbers. They were a cancer to society, a threat which, if left unchecked, would kill the organism it leeched off of. The genocidal response, however, of some Britannian commanders was hardly the most efficient way to deal with it. It was a short sighted approach, more of a quick fix than an actual long term plan.

While it was true that the method instilled fear, it also instilled hatred. And from hatred sprung the most ardent of their adversaries. Ryze could not count the number of times he had the urge to slam his head into the nearest wall for the sheer ineptitude of Britannian viceroys in general. Ethnic purging was the easiest and worst solution to the terrorist problem as the end result was, undoubtedly, the elimination of a large percentage of the native population; and with them, their cheap workforce.

The cry of status yellow was expected. The ghettos existed in an almost perpetual state of status yellow, indicating that the target could quickly become a hotbed of military activity. Given their living conditions, it wasn't difficult to see why.

Ryze nodded in acknowledgement before giving out his next command. "Relay rotation order to the 5th and 6th company." Due to the intense heat during the month of April, it had been necessary for them to change the guards every six hours. The last time they tried employing the standard eight hour shifts had resulted in a noticeable increase of heat strokes among the rank and file. Suffice to say, the medics weren't pleased with command.

"Incoming Knightmares from the southeast travelling along Trans-African Highway 1, sir!" A map of the entire area suddenly appeared on the monitor, covering the other images completely. "IFFs show them to be NAL, numbering approximately 75 units. They'll hit our lines in fifteen minutes." The same number of red dots showed up on screen to signify the North African League forces.

"Belay the rotation order and sound the alarm. Have all Knightmares prep for combat. Get the 1st, 2nd and 3rd Companies to reinforce the walls." Ryze ordered without hesitation. "4th Company will reinforce the city garrison and local enforcement units to maintain order on the streets." He added as an afterthought.

"Sir, more Knightmares closing in fast from the west! ETA is ten minutes." Another officer cried out.

"We've got a heavy armor division arriving from the south and southwest as well! Close to 300 main battle tanks supporting a mechanized infantry brigade!"

"Fuck." Ryze swore, verbalizing the thoughts of everyone in the room. "How many are coming from the west?"

"Only 35 units, sir!" That made up a total of 110 enemy Knightmares on the field, vastly outnumbering their own garrison of 40 Knightmares. "Sir, what are your orders?"

"Have our Sutherlands concentrate on the west wall first. Send 8th Company to the Viceroy's Palace." He stood from his seat uneasily and walked towards the window. The alarm's crescendo was now audible within the sound-proofed room, shrieking ominously as a warning of what was to come next. "Set up a conference with the Viceroy, the rest of the regimental command, the Air Force and the Admiralty."

"Sir, uprisings in Sectors 3, 4, 6 and 8 have been reported. The numbers are up in arms! Our soldiers stationed in the ghetto have been captured or killed."

"They timed this pretty damn well." Ryze muttered, gaining a grudging respect for the enemy commander.

"Conference is ready, sir."

"Thank you, captain." The lieutenant colonel returned to his seat and faced the screen. The screen had been divided into several grids, with a different face in each box.

"What's this about, Lieutenant Colonel Ryze?" The viceroy began, dabbing his kerchief at a trail of sweat streaking down his right cheek.

"Viceroy, as of three minutes ago, a large NAL force surrounded Tunis and is moving in to engage us. ETA of the first wave is in two minutes. We are outnumbered 3-to-1 in KMFs and 10-to-1 in armor. We have but a single battalion to face an entire brigade. To make things even worse, the city is rising up against us."

"Wh-where did they all come from? H-how did they get that much equipment?" The viceroy stuttered. "The front against the NAL is at least a thousand kilometers away!" To be precise, it was 1,750 kilometers away, not that far from the city of Benghazi.

"I suspect that the NAL rebels are being sent aid by the EU and the Middle Eastern Faction. They have been increasingly wary of Britannia's presence in the area." Admiral Giles of the Mediterranean Fleet mused. "As for how they got here, I suspect a few ships might have managed to slip past my fleet. The armor and infantry seem to have crossed the Sahara though."

"With all due respect, sir, we can speculate about that later." Ryze interrupted. "The question that needs to be answered is what we will be doing in response."

"All battalions on patrol have been recalled." Colonel Stone, Ryze's immediate superior, informed them. "The 2nd battalion will reach your position in twenty minutes. The 1st and 4th battalion will take at least an hour though. Can you hold out for that long?"

Ryze shook his head. "Without air, naval or artillery support, it is impossible. My battalion doesn't have anything to level the playing field against their KMFs."

"I'll work on diverting a few of my bomber wings your way." Air Marshall Crawford offered. "But it will be half an hour before they can be of any use to you."

"I'm afraid my hands are tied as well." Giles said apologetically. "My fleet has orders not to let a single ship enter the port of Cairo. None of my captains are in a position to reach you in time."

"Then I request permission to be allowed to make a tactical withdrawal, if the situation becomes untenable."

"And abandon Tunis to the NAL?" The viceroy spluttered indignantly. "We'll be the laughing stock of the Empire if we cede this city to them."

"And we'll be dead if we don't." Ryze snapped back, his patience for the viceroy already at its limit. "Colonel Stone, requesting permission to attempt a breakout to the west."

"Granted." The colonel responded. "Godspeed, Lieutenant Colonel."

* * *

"_Barracks B, Military Academy of Montreal, Quebec, Area 2._

_August 15, 2017_

_To His Highness, Lelouch vi Britannia:_

_Your Highness, my name is Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald of the House of Gottwald. I am currently the head of the Purist Faction in Area 11 and am acting as one of Prince Clovis' military adviser. What positions I hold now, however, is not as important as who I am, and that is a loyal guardsman of the late Empress Marianne vi Britannia. I had made a vow to your mother that I would law down my life in the service of her and her line. _

_Please, do not misread my intentions here as seeking to be released from my vows or to ask for forgiveness – for I do not deserve nor desire either. What I would like, however, is for a chance to atone. _

_I had failed in my solemn duty all those years ago when the Empress Marianne was slain. I had failed again when I learned that Princess Nunnally was killed during the subjugation of Area 11. As a Knight of vi Britannia, it was my responsibility to protect your line from its enemies and twice now has a member died under my watch. By all rights, my life should be forfeit to you. _

_I realize that my history does not make me out to be a competent Knight. Nevertheless, it would be unpardonable if I chose to abandon the last of Empress Marianne's line. Let your enemies be my enemies and your will be my will. Use me a shield against those who would harm you and as a sword against those you would harm. Make use of me as you see fit, and discard of me as you please. To you and your line, I swear my sole, eternal and unwavering allegiance._

_If you should wish that I be at your side, then I will come with all haste. If you wish that I remain in my place here, then I shall stand fast until you summon me. Where you send me, I will go. What you ask of me, I will do._

_Your eternal servant,  
__Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald__  
_

_P.S. Please forgive the lateness of this letter, but I only recently discovered your location from the news. _

* * *

_31 Fukushima Road, Sector 1, Tokyo, Area 11_

_To Margrave Gottwald,_

_I, Lelouch vi Britannia, Eleventh Prince of the Empire, do hereby accept your pledge of allegiance to me and my line. So mote it be. _

_Your eternal master,  
__Lelouch vi Britannia__  
_

_P.S. Your first task is to learn how to use the internet and e-mail. Once you have accomplished this, contact me at irockchess.a11"_

* * *

Jeremiah stared at the letter in his hands, reading the contents for the umpteenth time that hour. He turned it over and over, looking at it from different angles as if that might give him some new insight on the matter.

"Jeremiah, you've been staring at His Highness's letter for the past hour." Villeta remarked. "You don't have to take his rejection so badly."

"On the contrary, he accepted my vow."

"Then what's the problem? You should be out celebrating, not cooped up here reading through his letter like it's the Bible. You're not going to gain any profound insights from it, no matter how hard you try."

"See for yourself." Jeremiah said, handing her the letter.

"It's very short." Villetta noted. "What exactly did you say in your letter? That might help us figure out why he put that in his post script."

Jeremiah recited for her, word for word, his vow. "That's all?" The Margrave nodded. "You're absolutely sure? There's not a single word missing from what you just told me?"

"Well, I also added an apology for taking so long to write the letter."

"You were that nervous?"

Jeremiah stared at her oddly. "Of course not. The news simply didn't make any mention of his location so I couldn't figure out where to send the letter to."

Villetta slapped her forehead. "His location had been on the internet for days before the news mentioned it." Jeremiah's mouth widened into an "O".

* * *

"Left, face!"

The privates turned their heads first, then followed with their bodies and ending the action with a stomp of their right foot; perfectly synchronized in their motion.

"Forward, march!"

The trainees began with their left foot, surging forward while never breaking the square of their formation. Each man was an arm's length away from his comrades to the sides, front and back. The roar of thunder; the scream of a mortar that had been just launched into the air; the sound of two thousand men marching as one – it was all the same to Major Cromwell.

"Squad, halt!" The drill sergeant bellowed through his megaphone, his amplified voice being carried across the field by the wind. With a last, glorious crackle, the thundering footsteps subsided almost immediately as it began.

"Present, arms!"

Two thousand arms swept up; two thousand hands touching two thousand brows in a show of respect. Cromwell felt his chest surge with pride as he returned the gesture.

"Ready, front!" was the command and the arms dropped without so much as a peep of sound.

"Parade, rest!" Both arms were placed behind them, the left hand grasping the wrist of the clenched right. The soldiers stood completely still, as stiff as statues.

Cromwell glanced to his side, where a panel of officers stood. They would be the judges today as to who would be accepted into the accelerated officer's program based on the performances. In all honesty, the major was only concerned about one particular person's acceptance into the program – Lelouch vi Britannia.

At first, his interest had been stimulated by his desire to advance himself and get a foot though the door so he could rub shoulders with the elitists, tycoons and politicians. However, this selfish desire had slowly been transformed in the course of two weeks. Initial assessment reports called him an average soldier; capable but lacking in discipline. In many factors, such as discipline, chain of command, and physical fitness, he had consistently been awarded low grades for his efforts.

But under tactics, he always managed to plan properly with, apparently, "little effort." He had attributed it to the biased findings of one man and had sent others to view the SQUABCOMS. Everyone reported the same thing. The prince was a natural, having been born for the burden of command and his voice naturally carrying a certain authority behind it that, for no reason, compelled others to follow. Even this, at first, he'd been skeptical to accept at face value for there were many who would lie if they thought they could benefit from such a misdeed. But the consistency and frequency of the praise that bordered on raving, coming from even those he held in his personal confidence, had been enough to make him genuinely curious if it was true.

Was the Prince really a tactical genius? He would find out today.

The final SQUABCOMS challenge was a way to weed out the true strategists from the merely lucky. The candidates would be placed in rigged games where they were greatly disadvantaged to determine if they were mentally capable.

In order to test their leadership, they would be teamed up with a mix-match of soldiers from different squads. An officer was expected to be able to command respect even from those he had no actual authority over.

After the first few candidates finished their challenges, which ranged from faulty maps to seizing the high ground, it was finally _his _turn. Cromwell drew a folded piece of paper from the fishbowl that would determine who got what task, and became giddy when he read it out loud for the judges to hear.

"A 3-to-1 numerical disadvantage in timed capture the flag." The major said, feeling genuinely excited for the first time in years.

* * *

"A 3-to-1 numerical disadvantage in timed capture the flag?" A private repeated incredulously, a sour frown plastered onto his face. "How the fuck are we supposed to win against those odds?"

"With tactics and careful planning, a 3-to-1 disadvantage is nothing more than a minor nuisance." Lelouch answered dismissively, grabbing the entire squad's attention with his bold statement. "Now here's what we're going to do..."

"I don't know about this." Another private, Higgins, said after the plan had been explained to them. "It seems like a pretty big gamble and I don't like betting myself."

Lelouch grinned. "Then you've obviously never bet on me before."

The challenge had been set across a river with but one shallow point where crossing was possible along the entirety of the river. For this exercise alone, each person had been allowed to pick one item, instead of everyone being issued the same EK-68 replica. Interestingly enough, Lelouch chose a flare gun, which, in itself, could not actually cause the elimination of another person. All it could do, in fact, was send out a colored flare. Other things that the squad had pilfered from the pile of military hardware were 4 heavy machine guns, 3 EK-68s, 1 sniper rifle and a grappling hook.

"R Group, set up our HMGs at the edge of the forest at intervals of ten meters." Lelouch ordered, pointing to the trees in the distance. The four gunners complied, trudging along the dirt trail with their rapid fire weaponry. "Rawlins, I want you on the trees to lookout for any flanking actions. Don't waste ammo on the grunts. Take down enemy sharpshooters first, and officers second." The sniper gave a mock salute, before sauntering off to do as instructed. "K Group," all of whom were equipped with rifles, "take the grappling hook upstream and flank the enemy. Remember, do not move until you see the flare."

"What about me, sir?" Higgins, who had been robbed of his grappling hook, asked.

Lelouch's grin turned feral. "You'll be getting the most important job of all." He gestured for the other man to come closer, as if he was about to divulge some state secret. "You'll be stealing the flag for us before the timer hits zero."

Once the game had begun, it didn't take long for first of the enemies to begin crossing the river. There were twenty in this group, who probably thought that being twice their enemies' size would be enough to ensure victory. That was their first mistake.

One of the gunners tensed in anticipation, his index finger moving unconsciously towards the trigger. Lelouch placed a hand on his shoulder, causing him to turn his head questioningly. "Not yet," The prince mouthed silently. There was no need to reveal themselves yet while the trees kept them out of sight.

Lelouch waited for the party to finish crossing, before sweeping his arm up in a smooth motion, and firing the gun in his hand. A shower of green light burst from the tip, ascending into the sky like a rocket, only slowing down as it reached the peak of its climb. The twenty, newly arrived privates gawked at the light, as if mesmerized by the sudden appearance of an imaginary creature.

Without any further prompting, the four heavy machine guns rattled to life, a barrage of pellets viciously assaulting the exposed group. Those standing in the rims fell first, the armor that they wore rendering them incapable of further voluntary motion. Weeks of training kicked in as the rest of the men hugged the dirt, taking cover behind the bodies of the fallen.

Some crawled forward, attempting to get a clear shot of their ambushers. These were quickly discouraged from continuing by the rhythmic fire of the sniper, who chose to target the brave ones first.

Some crawled to the side, hoping to gain better cover. These, also, were dealt with in good order. The spacing between the four MG positions ensured that the gunfire was coming from different angles, yet still having overlapping fields of fire.

Some crawled back to the river, attempting to escape back to the river and away from the suppressive fire that had pinned them down. They made it halfway through the river, still waist deep in water, where they were sitting ducks to the flanking riflemen that had chosen that instant to join the fray.

It did not take long for the survivors to lay down their arms; disorganized, disoriented and surrounded as they were. The massacre lasted all of forty eight seconds and resulted in 13 POWs and 7 KIAs.

"Higgins, execute phase 2." ordered Lelouch. The private ran up to one of their captives and tugged the blue band - tied around his forehead – free. "O'Connor, I'm placing you in charge of R Group. Keep a tight lid on things. If the prisoners so much as move a hair, I want them all taken down. Take no chances."

"Yes, sir." O'Connor replied with a respectful salute, grabbing one of their newly acquisitions rifles and joining his team in watching the prisoners.

Lelouch turned around to see Higgins, now donning the enemies' distinct blue band, Rawlins, still with his beloved sniper rifle, and K Group, armed with the confiscated extra ammo. "We've got ten minutes to go before the exercise ends." He informed them with a smirk. "I promise you we'll be done in five."

Higgins crashed through the trees with about as much grace as falling down the stairs. His face was covered with dirt and his eyes were constantly moving around, a panicked gleam evident in them. "What happened?" The leader of the blue-bands guarding the flag asked. "What's going on out there?"

"We got ambushed at the river crossing!" Higgins exclaimed. "The reds wiped out half our group before we knew what was happened, and pushed the rest of us back." He took a moment to catch his breath, before continuing. "I was sent back here to warn the rest of you. They're making a final push towards us. If we can hold here, we'll be able to force a draw."

"A draw?" The leader repeated, looking as if he had just swallowed something bitter. "That is unacceptable. How many men are still out there? Ours and theirs"

"There were seven of us left when I was sent back here. We only managed to take down one of vi Britannia's men." Higgins lied, a sense of excitement rising in his chest as he furthered the lie. The plan was actually working!

The leader nodded. "Then we'll take the fight to them and drive them all the way back to their flag. Forward, men!" He cried out, leading the charge himself. Higgins lagged behind so that he would be at the rearmost spot.

They had barely walked twenty meters when they came under attack. Three were immobilized in an instant. A half second later, the leader was petrified as well. "They're hitting us from the sides!" Higgins cried out, making a show of firing back. Once the last six were distracted, he leveled his gun at them.

Pop! Pop! Pop! Three more bodies crumpled to the floor before anyone realized what was going on. The moment they turned around to shoot him, K Group broke cover and rushed them, taking another two prisoner and shooting the one that resisted.

With a casual gait that one would use whilst on a stroll, Lelouch sauntered to the flag, its blue cloth waving in the wind. He placed both hands on the pole, before giving a mighty heave to release it from the ground, and raised it high in the air triumphantly.

"Victory!"

His men cheered jubilantly, relishing in the euphoria of what they had just accomplished.

"Le-louch!" The chant started from Higgins, and infected those around him like a virus.

"Le-louch!" The cry grew progressively louder as his men joined in. "Le-louch!" It was only then that he realized it was too loud for it to be only his men.

The entirety of the audience was shouting his name as well. The sound of two thousand strong was enough to wake even the dead.

"Le-louch!"

A cigarette vendor just outside of the base paused, looking around for the source of the noise, before concluding it was coming from the soldiers inside. "Who the fuck is that supposed to be?" He muttered, wandering off in search of clients.

* * *

"Congratulations for your impressive win, Private vi Britannia." Major Cromwell said.

"Thank you, sir." Lelouch replied, as he took a seat across the general in a scene reminiscent of two weeks ago. "I assume you wanted to see me about the program, sir?"

"Correct. After the last test, the judges were climbing over each other to tell you personally." The major confided with a subtle grin. "You made quite the impression. I think most of them wouldn't have been able to pull off what you did if they were put in your position." Cromwell confessed, sliding a manila folder across the table's surface.

Lelouch nodded in acknowledgment as he opened it up and affixed his signature in the relevant fields, before returning the folder. "Did you have to pull any strings, sir?"

The major briefly considered lying in order to extract a favour, before ultimately deciding against it. "No. The judges were reluctant to give you a shot, but caved upon my insistence. After your performance, I think they'd have been willing to give you a slot even considering your late arrival."

"Thank you for being honest with me, sir." Lelouch replied. "I...appreciate it." He saluted crisply.

Cromwell dismissed him by returning the act, and watched him leave. "Great things await you, Your Highness."

Truer words had never been spoken.

* * *

_"The Regiment and the Fief - the intertwined two which represents the power of the nobles. The soldiers are ultimately more loyal to their commander than the Empire, just as those in the fief owe their allegiance to their lord, not the crown. It remains to be Britannia's greatest advantage and its greatest weakness at the same time." - Lelouch vi Britannia_

_"General Cromwell, you've often been criticized about showing favor towards Prince vi Britannia during his stay at Montreal. Is there any truth to this?" _

_"Of course, Julie. It's completely true." _

_"But why? Shouldn't someone rise in the ranks based on merit alone?"_

_"Getting on a Prince's bad side isn't the best move for career advancement. Or life, in general." _

_"If that's the case, why did you allow the drill sergeant at the time, one Thompson A. Rockwell, to mistreat him so?"_

_"The two cases aren't the same. As Base Commander, it was not part of my job description to unnecessarily harass him. A drill sergeant's job is to do precisely that in order to simulate battlefield stress and fatigue." _

_"And what of the officer acceleration program that you spearheaded? Many other notable military commanders have denounced the system."_

_"They are entitled to their own opinion. The system has it flaws, I will admit, but one can hardly worry about that during wartime. What needs to be understood is that terrorists were making it a habit to target NCOs and officers on the field. There was a huge demand that couldn't be filled with conventional methods, so I chose an unconventional one. Compared to other proposed solutions, I'd say the program was a success. Did not Prince Lelouch vi Britannia, hailed as one of the greatest strategists of Britannia, come from the program?" _

_"Thank you for your time, General."_

_"It was my pleasure, Julie." _

_-excerpt from: History Channel - How they changed the world: General Cromwell _

* * *

**AN: What did you guys think about it? Please leave your thoughts, good or bad, in the box below. **_  
_**  
****Q: WHAT? That's not how things go in the military!**

**A: It's fanfiction. While I do try to base it on real life as much as possible, we are dealing with a world that has different norms and values here. Certain things are subject to change at an author's discretion. **


	3. Balancing the Clocks

**AN: Chapter 3! About the title: In chess tournaments, officials usually balance the clocks before a match starts to make sure both players have equal time.**

**This Chapter ends my first arc of the story! Woohoooooo! Enjoy everyone :)**

**For those of you who want a map of North Africa, check out: **

**nationsonline oneworld / map / algeria_map**

**(just remove the spaces)  
**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Code Geass, the site above, or the information provided by said site. This is purely non-profit.**

**Chapter 3: Balancing the Clocks**

_"The Knightmare Frame Corps, hereunder referred to as the KMFC or KMF Corps, shall be organized into following groupings:_

_1) A KMFC Squad shall be the most basic independent group that members of the KMFC may operate in. It shall be composed of six (6) KMFC pilots, and headed by a Captain._

_2) A KMFC Lance shall be composed of four (4) Squads and one (1) Commander for a total of 25 KMFC pilots. The Commander must hold the rank of Major or higher. _

_3) A KMFC Century shall be composed of four (4) Lances and one (1) Commander for a total of 101 KMFC pilots. The Commander must hold the rank of Colonel or higher._

_4) A KMFC Brigade shall be composed of at least three (3) Centuries and its Command Staff. The Commander must hold the rank of Brigadier General or higher._

_5) A KMFC Command shall be composed at least two (2) KMFC Brigades and its Command Staff. The Commander must hold the rank of Major General or higher._

_The KMF Corps shall be under the nominal authority of the Army and all Commanders of the KMFC are to be treated as part of the chain of command. The KMFC shall not include Knightmares which exist in service of other branches, such as the KMF Marines and the KMF Paratroopers."_

___-excerpt from: Britannian Military Directive 3010 (aka KMFC Directive) by Britannian Supreme Command _

_____"All warfare is based on deception, and all stratagems are based on information." - Lance Sawyer_

* * *

_**August 25, 2017 (Officers' Training Day 1)**_

Lelouch officially _hated _his life.

Aside from the already demanding schedule of Basic Training, they had been required to wake up at four in the morning. _Four! _And that was just for their morning, five kilometer jog.

Objective speaking, two weeks of military life had done Lelouch's body good. There was a noticeable improvement in his performance, since he was only lagging behind the group by a few meters now, as compared to the hundred meter gap during his first day. Or perhaps he had just gotten used to the pain. Lelouch couldn't tell, and, frankly, he didn't care.

Subjectively speaking, he still felt like shit after their pushups. It certainly didn't help that he was drenched in sweat and that he was in _Canada _which meant he was freezing his ass off the moment they finished a run through the obstacle course.

And this was all taking place during the summer. He dreaded to think what life was like here during the fall - never mind the winter.

Hot showers, Lelouch had decided as he relished in the sensation of heated water purging his body of dirt and grime, were a gift from God. The only upside to his current situation, as he certainly didn't expect the officer program to be even more physically taxing than Basic, was that the barracks was empty of his fellow privates. Apparently, Sergeant Thompson had gotten tired of shouting for them to get ready for hell on earth - his own term of endearment for PT - and had sent Lelouch to do it for him. He had, of course, gladly complied as it gave him an excuse to be able to shower in peace.

"Hey Britannia," Well, relatively in peace. "have you heard about Area 17?"

The resident royal didn't need sneak a peek to figure out who was bothering his intimate moment with the shower. There was, after all, only two other people who had gotten into the program from his barracks, and only one of them referred to him by his surname - despite his objections.

"You talking 'bout the NAL uprising, Haywood?"

"Right in one, Britannia." Then again, it was Haywood. It was likely he always referred to him by his family name because of his objections rather than in spite of it. Although they certainly weren't trying to actively kill each other on a daily basis, he never forgot the SQUABCOMS incident. "You think we'll get sent there after all this is over?"

"It's a possibility." Lelouch paused, trying to recall any news about the matter. "The 2nd Quebec lost a lot of good men last week while breaking out of Tunis."

"I heard that their Regiment's down to half strength." This time, it was Wood who spoke up.

"Already?" Lelouch asked, opening his eyes in surprise. "At this rate, they might be wiped out before we finish training." A tone of disappointment laced his voice, which was not lost on his companions.

"You sound like you actually want to get sent to that dead end regiment." Haywood remarked. "It's a numbers regiment, Britannia. Hardly fitting for a man of your...station."

"A soldier goes where he's told, Haywood." Wood retorted sharply.

"Of course you'd say that, Wood." Haywood said, the smirk on his face evident just from the tone he used. "You're a _fraction_, aren't you?"

Fraction. 1) A numerical representation indicating the quotient of two numbers; 2) One of several portions separable by fractionation; 3) bit, little; 4) A derogatory term referring to the illegitimate child of a Britannian Noble with a Number.

"Shut your mouth, _purist_." Wood hissed venomously.

"Why don't you make me, fraction." Haywood taunted, his voice infused with a singsong tone.

"Why don't you both shut up." Lelouch said, more than a little pissed that they had ruined his shower with their bickering. He turned a knob abruptly to cut off the supply of water, before grabbing his towel and wiping himself dry.

To be frank, Lelouch had been expecting this sort of prejudice to be prevalent among the officers of the Britannian military, which was unified in name only. In practice, there were about a dozen different military factions which clambered for dominance over one another, acting much like siblings in a family with the way they fought. They'd never actually try to kill each other directly, although they certainly wouldn't pass off a chance to bring down their reputations or show off their own might.

It was all very political and along with the Regimental System, served to keep the Military divided. That was probably why there had never been a single coup d'état in the entire history of Britannia. No group, much less an individual, would ever be able to amass enough influence and support to launch one with even a remote chance of success.

It was efficient to keep the army in line, but inefficient for fighting their enemies.

Lelouch relished in the silence following his outburst, allowing himself a moment to ponder on a solution. Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God. "Gentlemen, I propose a wager to settle this issue once and for all."

"I'm listening." Wood answered, unveiling the flimsy curtain, which was all that separated the showers, and stepping out to get dressed.

"If he's in, I'm in." Haywood said just as quickly, not one to be bested by a half-breed, of all people. Though it wouldn't be seen, Lelouch could not help but raise a brow at that. "Aren't you going to wait for the terms first?"

"There's nothing he can do that I can't do better." Haywood answered smugly, stepping out to join them as well.

"I've been informed that the COBCOMS," the Company Based Combat Simulations were a large scale version of the SQUABCOMS, "will be a virtual exercise. That means all factors will be equal and the better tactician will surely win." Lelouch finished buttoning up his new officer's uniform, before pointing to them with his index and middle finger. "You two go up against each other, and we'll see who's better."

Wood thought on it for a moment, before nodding in agreement. Lelouch looked at Haywood expectantly. Haywood flashed him a confident smirk, before answering. "Do you even need to ask?"

"Good." Lelouch said curtly, giving himself the once over in the mirror. "I'm sure we can all put this behind us until then." He glanced at his watch, and saw that the shorthand was nearing four, while the longhand was at six. "I'll see you men in the dining hall." He said with a sharp nod, before heading out for breakfast.

There would be no line at the canteen at this time. Thank God for small favors.

* * *

Cornelia li Britannia, Commander of the Middle Eastern Theater, strode into the room, graceful but imposing; her purple velvet cape with gold trimmings billowing behind her, as if trying to catch up with the ever impatient princess. Behind her, Darlton, a general in his own right, was actually trying to catch up while Gilbert Guilford, knight of Cornelia, easily matched the determined woman's gait. Two Colonels draped in silk capes that had noticeably more intricate designs flanked the group. There was a sound of feet standing as the assembled men greeted their superior respectfully. Cornelia acknowledged their gesture with a curt nod, before beckoning them to sit with a wave of her hand.

"Eleven days," Cornelia began, taking a moment to survey the room, "it has been eleven days since the NAL began their offensive. Eleven days since we lost Tunis and what have we to show for it?"

"Field Marshall, the 2nd Quebec has been forced to engage in a fighting retreat and is now a little over half-strength. Colonel Stone informs me that the Regiment is near Constantine, where they shall attempt to check the enemy's advance." A general sporting a thick moustache and two gleaming, silver stars reported.

"Is he insane?" Another officer, this one a lieutenant general, exclaimed. "His regiment is the only force we have between Tunis and Algiers ever since the 5th Auckland and the 2nd Rio were wiped out last week!"

"I agree with General Haywood." Andreas Darlton said. "We simply cannot afford to lose the port of Algiers at this point. If we do, then we forfeit everything between Oran and Benghazi to the rebels. That will give them a large pool of resources and manpower to wage a protracted war with."

"To keep ceding ground like this, however, is little better."

"We can trade space for time!"

"Every inch we give is every inch we'll have to take. It will be a long, bloody war if we just let them run free."

"And if the Regiment falls here then it will be an even longer war."

"Enough." interrupted Cornelia, her voice firm and authoritative, smoothly cutting through the debate. The room quieted down in an instant, and Guilford couldn't help but smirk at how easily the group of military generals were controlled by his princess. "General Darlton is correct. The 2nd Quebec cannot hope to stem the tides now. Even if they were to beat back the first of their enemies, would they be able to hold out against a second or third assault? They cannot for it is impossible without further equipment and manpower. The best they can hope to do at this point is to bunker down in Algiers, which we shall use as a staging area against the NAL later on."

"Yes, Field Marshall." The assembled officers answered in chorus, realizing their commander had made her decision.

"Good." Cornelia said. "Admiral Hughes, can the Gibraltar Fleet spare any ships to convoy materials to Algiers?"

The Admiral, whose face was on screen as he could not leave his fleet, nodded. "I could send half my fleet and it wouldn't matter. The straights cannot be taken from us by those damn rebels or by the EU." He answered boisterously.

"Air Marshall Crawford, the 78th Air Group will continue providing air support for the Regiment. The rest of your forces will step up their preparations in the attack against the MEF. Admiral Giles, the Mediterranean Fleet is to extend its blockade to include the Suez Canal. We'll starve the rebels of their precious supplies." Cornelia said, a sneer marring her usually graceful facial features. "Finally, the 12th and 16th Imperial Regiments will move to Oujda," her index finger slid along the map until it reached the only point of intersection between the two largest highways into the region of Morocco, "and cut off any further incursions into our lands."

The two colonels, who had remained silent the entire time, snapped to attention. "Thank you, Sister Cornelia." The generals, if they were shocked at the revelation of two more royals, did not show any signs of it.

"Orion, Altair, I am counting on you two to hold the line until we can gather our strength. Our counteroffensive will begin there."

"Yes, Sister Cornelia." They replied, albeit with a touch of informality that was out of place in the military setting. Cornelia took a step back, reviewing her plan and the map on the table, before nodding and turning on her heel with a distinct "snap". Guilford followed suit and matched her steps from a respectful distance.

"Sister, where are you going?" Orion asked, stunned by the abrupt action.

"This meeting is over." Cornelia announced in her "no nonsense" voice, not bothering to even slow down. "I'm headed back to the field."

"But-"

"Don't bother." General Haywood interrupted him. "Her Highness considers herself a soldier first and foremost."

"But generals aren't required to serve on the field." Altair blurted out. "She's unduly risking her own life!"

"If the king doesn't lead, how can he expect the subordinates to follow?" This time it was Darlton who replied. "It is the age old rhetoric of the Prime Minister Schneizel el Britannia, and your sister has made it into her own philosophy as well."

* * *

"Officer Candidates, take seat." The twenty, newly accepted officer candidates obeyed, depositing themselves on the uncomfortable, wooden armchairs. The man swept the room with his eyes, taking a moment to observe each of them carefully, before speaking again. "My name is Captain Lance Sawyer. For the next 35 days, I will be your instructor in the officer program. Make no mistake, gentlemen. Getting in was the easy part."

Sawyer pointed to Lelouch. "Sir, Officer Candidate vi Britannia, sir!" Lelouch shouted automatically.

The captain leafed through the folders on his table, before plucking one out and opening it up. "Private vi Britannia shows an exceptional grasp of tactics, being able to circumvent any challenge that comes his way. _However, _he has a keen disregard for the chain of command and has, on two occasions, committed perfidy to achieve victory. He has lost none of his combat exercises, to date." Sawyer read calmly, radically opposite the constant shouting they had been subjected to by the drill sergeants. "Is this true, vi Britannia?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"I see." Sawyer said, nodding. "Drop and give me sixty."

Though his entire body was protesting, Lelouch stood, stepped to the side and assumed a push up position. His already sore arms were shaking violently from each show of exertion, but the captain paid him no further heed, instead pointing to another.

"Sir, Officer Candidate Baldwin, sir!"

"Private Baldwin exhibits officer potential, demonstrating an understanding of fundamental tactics and prioritization of objectives. He has lost thrice of his combat simulations. _However, _he-vi Britannia, keep moving." Sawyer interrupted himself, noticing that the prince had stopped lowering his body altogether in favor of keeping elbows locked.

Lelouch gritted his teeth, and bent his elbows, wincing as he pushed himself back up. He did another repetition bringing his count to ten. "Lower, vi Britannia, or do you want me to do it for you?" The stern captain asked, before continuing to read. "_However_, he has a tendency to show no quarter, having taken no prisoners in any of his exercises." Sawyer shut the folder sharply, and piled it on top of Lelouch's. "Baldwin, give my eighty."

Baldwin silently made his way beside Lelouch, before dropping on all fours to commence. The entire ritual lasted half an hour as their new instructor read their profiles aloud, one by one, before giving each of them a number of push ups to do as punishment for their transgressions that ranged from showing no quarter to being stupid enough to fall victim to perfidy. "Just because you follow the rules, doesn't mean the other son of a bitch does too. Be prepared!" Occasionally, his readings would be interspersed with spoken - never shouted - commands such as "Lower" and "Keep your ass down".

By the end of it all, the entire class had arrived at an unspoken consensus that they would gladly face a drill sergeant over Captain Sawyer any day.

"We expect a higher standard from Britannian Officers. Unlike the grunts out there," Sawyer pointed at the privates running through an obstacle course outside the window, "obeying orders simply doesn't cut it anymore. You are the conscience and guide of your men; the anchor which they shall depend on to weather the fiercest of storms. You are to be stronger, faster and _smarter_ than them." The captain crossed his arms in front of his chest. "The Britannian Military might not punish you for it – hell, they might even actively encourage it - but while under my instruction, you will adhere to the rules of war. Am I understood?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"You are expected to maintain this schedule from here on out." Sawyer began ticking the points with his fingers. "You are expected to learn everything the privates are learning. You are expected to think for yourselves." He curled his right hand back into a fist, absorbing the three fingers into a tight ball of flesh. "That ends the orientation for today. Any questions?"

No one dared to raise a hand, keenly aware of the throbbing pain in their arms that had yet to subside.

"Let's proceed then." Sawyer pulled out a whiteboard marker from the drawer of the desk, twirling it around his fingers casually. "What is the most important weapon the army has?" He pointed to the man closest to him with the end of the marker.

"Sir, Knightmares sir." was the reply.

"And why is that, Cameron?" Captain Sawyer asked, writing down his answer on the board in a simple, but easily readable, print.

"Knightmares are the deciding factors on the field, sir. Whichever side has the best Knightmare force will emerge victorious in any conflict, sir."

Sawyer's brow arched up questioningly. "Is that right?" He recapped his marker to prevent it from drying, his eyes never breaking contact with Cameron. "Then I suppose the rest of us in the army are obsolete? We're little better than cannon fodder or cheerleaders now?" He jeered.

Cameron wisely stayed quiet.

"Do you know how easy it is to destroy a Sutherland _without _a Knightmare? A single shot from an anti-tank missile aimed at the knee, shoulder or joints can knock it out of a fight. Hell, a single AP round from a tank aimed at the chest is enough to kill the pilot." Sawyer seemed to relish at the stunned looks he elicited.

"But sir," Haywood said, almost protested really, "if Knightmares are so easy to destroy, why bother with them? They are easily five times more expensive that a state-of-the-art main battle tank."

"Because they move fast, hit faster and hit harder in the proper conditions. The tank, at least the ones we have now, were built to be all terrain artillery, but the Knightmare was designed, first and foremost, to be a rapid reaction unit, especially in urban conditions. Drop a single frame in the middle of a tank squadron, and it'll crush them without breaking a sweat, no doubt. But ask the KMF Corps to charge at a fortified position, and you'll have a slaughter to rival the Charge of the Light Brigade. The public has this misguided notion that it takes a Knightmare to beat a Knightmare, but if that were true, then all of you being here would be pointless, wouldn't it?" His statement left the score dazed, their long held faith in the invincibility of the Knightmare Corps weakened, if not shattered completely. "Back to the question at hand, Wood, your thoughts?"

Wood bit his lip hesitantly, unsure what he should reply. "Its commanders, sir?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Sawyer sounded annoyed by the answer posing as a question.

"Its commanders, sir." Wood said, this time with a little more conviction.

Sawyer nodded, satisfied by his answer and Wood let out a sigh of relief. "That is correct. There is no weapon more powerful than the human mind. Name any physical weapon be it a Knightmare, a tank, a plane, a missile and all of these, I assure you, can be countered by a competent commander. That," his gaze swept the room, a decidedly more critical light in his eyes, "is why you are here."

Lelouch was no longer listening to the lecture by this point. His mind was whirling at the implications of what he had just heard. Dozens of new plans flittered into his thoughts, and, just as quickly, were discarded until he decided on his next course of action.

First, though, he'd need to verify his information.

* * *

"It's true then." Lelouch said, leaning into the increasingly familiar chair in front of Major Cromwell's desk.

"KMF plating is hardly a state secret." Cromwell replied, trying a sip of his tea, before dumping two cubes of sugar into the steaming beverage. "It is well known that the chest armor is particularly vulnerable to kinetic weaponry, despite our attempts to improve on them."

"Surely the Empire, with no limit to the resources and minds it commands, can come up with a better design for our Knightmares?" Lelouch pressed, unable to assuage his doubts.

"The Sutherland is one of the few mass-produced KMFs in the world. Do you know how difficult it would be to alter the designs all of a sudden? It would require redesigning the whole thing, a cost that the brass isn't quite willing to shoulder. More plating would mean a larger chest component, larger legs for stability, stronger slash harkens to deal with the increased weight and those are just the things at the top of my head!" The major exclaimed, a migraine slowly taking root in his brain from the relentless questioning. "The boys in engineering described the process as a veritable nightmare, no pun intended."

"Well what about newer frames?"

"What do you think the ASEEC has been doing all this time?" The Advanced Special Envoy Engineering Corp was, in simpler terms, the R&D Division for all things Knightmare related. It encompassed several think tanks, projects and teams that were, in general, considered the finest minds of the Empire.

"This is popular knowledge among the officers and no one uses it to their advantage." Lelouch mused loudly, finally accepting the fact.

"For the most part, yes, although I wouldn't buy into Captain Sawyer's personal beliefs completely. KMFs are really, _really_ fast moving tank that can change directions in," he snapped his finger, "an instant." Cromwell explained, his patience wearing thin, though he managed to keep his voice calm. "A Sutherland can withstand a dozen glancing shots from a tank before it even needs repairs. There exists a very small percentage of officers that believe a KMF isn't worth the pounds it takes to build one."

"Why does Captain Sawyer dislike KMFs, anyway?" Lelouch couldn't help but ask, his curiosity regarding the strange officer piqued.

"From what I've read, his unit was ambushed while on patrol by the EU. Only survivor of the assault, from what I've gathered, and he was declared unfit to continue serving on the front lines by his physician." Cromwell answered, no longer able to keep his voice free from the annoyance he felt. "Do you have any more questions or can you leave me to my work in peace?" He groaned as he glanced at the mountain of paperwork, waiting to be completed, on his desk.

Lelouch smirked, a mischievous glint in his eyes that thoroughly unnerved the major. "Just one, can I borrow your laptop?"

"If it means you'll keep quiet," he grabbed the offending piece of technology from his drawer and shoved it into the waiting hands, "then take it." Cromwell sighed, feeling much older all of a sudden. He entertained the notion of pulling rank to kick the prince out before deciding against it. It would have been such a waste to throw away what good will he had earned for the temporary reprieve it would grant him. The major was anything but shortsighted.

* * *

_To: Lelouch Lamperouge (irockchess.a11)_  
_Fr: Jeremiah Gottwald (jeremiah_gottwald .mil)_  
_Re: Orders_

_Your Highness, I have done as you instructed and have familiarized myself with this "world wide web" as well as having acquired a working knowledge of email, which the Britannian military was kind enough to set up for me._

_I await further orders._

_Your eternal servant,_  
_Jeremiah Gottwald_

The technician quaked in fear as the tall, imposing figure of Jeremiah Gottwald towered over him. "You there!" The Margrave bellowed, pointing to him as if accusing him of some crime.

"S-s-sir?" The technician stuttered, barely managing to even get that one word out clearly.

"I am in need of your services." He demanded, refusing to take no for an answer. The Knight grabbed the technician by the front of his uniform, and lifted him effortlessly into the air.

Margrave Gottwald was known to be a touchy individual, and, on occasion, would personally confront those who had slighted him in some way. The technician gulped, mentally calculating how much of his hospital bills would be covered by his insurance and cursing his misfortune, when he suddenly found himself seated in front of a computer on a rather comfy swivel chair. He looked at the prominent military commander, more confused than frightened now.

"Teach me," Jeremiah gestured towards the screen dramatically, "of this internet."

The technician blinked owlishly. This was…unexpected, to say the least. Still, it was better than getting pummeled into tomorrow.

With nearly infinitesimal patience, he began the long and arduous task of turning the sadly outdated man into a technologically literate being.

It wasn't as if he had much of a choice.

* * *

It was 7:00 AM in Tokyo when Ruben Ashford decided to assume his role as superintendent of Ashford Academy. He greeted his secretary perfunctorily, and gratefully accepted the hot cup of black coffee she offered him. At exactly 7:02 AM, he had settled himself comfortably into his Italian leather chair, and savored his drink while his computer booted up.

At 7:03 AM, he nearly introduced his monitor to his favorite black liquid.

Immediately popping up into his monitor, after the start up programs had run their course, was a chat request from _him. _To say that it was unexpected was an understatement. Without another moment's delay, he clicked on the button which read "accept" and watched as another box popped up to replace the previous one.

"_Lelouch?"_ He typed in, just to be certain it wasn't some sort of mistake.

"_Who else?" _was the almost instantaneous reply. Though separated by a few thousand kilometers, Ruben could feel the boy smirking at him. _"How is she faring without me?"_ Even without mentioning any names, both men knew who was being spoken of.

"_Her guardian informs me that she misses you greatly." _Ruben typed quickly, displaying a familiarity with the keyboard that was uncommon among those his age. _"I hear Miyazaki is lovely this time of year." _It was a code phrase among those in the know, one of several hundred that had been developed by the Britannian prodigy. This one, in particular, meant that Nunnally had been moved there from the Ashford house in Hiroshima.

"_I miss her too."_ There was a significant lull in the conversation, before another message appeared. _"I wanted to talk to you about something else though." _

Ruben was fairly surprised for the second time that hour. He could not think of anything so important that would merit a direct communication from the prince. Anything important he was involved in - which was depressingly little since the Ashfords fled to Japan - anyway. _"Pray tell."_

_"You used to develop Knightmare Frames."_

Those six words left Ruben feeling positively giddy. In his earlier days, he took great pride in his work as an inventor and a businessman. The Ganymede, which was arguably the first _true _Knightmare in existence, was like a child to him. It had been piloted by Marianne, who was still a Lamperouge then. That much was common knowledge, at least within the aristocratic circles.

What most _didn't _know, though probably suspected, were the several other Frames being developed by his corporation. _"Those days are long past." _He replied, the taunting words a painful mirror of his own state of mind. Ruben certainly missed the old days where he was given carte blanche to do as he pleased. It didn't do to dwell on the past. If he had wanted that, he would have overdosed on Refrain a long time ago.

"_I am in need of your skills." _The former noble waited with bated breath, allowing a sliver of hope to gather in him. It was too much to wish for, too much to ask for…but could it be possible? _"I no longer consider the Sutherland as an adequate, mass-produced combat frame that can serve my purposes. It's time to diversify our arsenal."_

"_How?" _It was a question Ruben already knew the answer to, but he wanted to see it for himself. He wanted to know he was needed.

"_You once told me that the Ganymede was just a prototype of things to come."_ He was practically bouncing in his seat by now, barely containing his excitement. _"The Glasgow was one of your own designs, before the Foundation was disbanded, was it not? Are you telling me that there weren't others?" _

"_There were…5__th__ generation frames in the works. Schematics and proposals I had drawn up, but never actually got around to building." _

Another brief pause broke the flow of their messaging, and Ruben took the opportunity to open his personal vault, where _the_ flash drive rested. It contained the remnants of his work, the precious few scraps of data he managed to salvage. Reverently, he lifted it out of the vault, as if carrying some sacred artifact, and plugged it into his computer.

Another reply was already waiting for him. One he had been waiting to hear – or see as the case may be - for years. _"Can you build me a few?" _

Ruben smirked, confidently inputting his answer. _"Of course, when do you need them?" _

"_In a month, will that be a problem?" _

The elder Ashford frowned. It was far sooner than he was comfortable with, but still manageable. Most of the work, which was theoretical in nature, was nearly completed. What remained was to acquire and assemble the pieces, which was significantly more difficult. It would be hard to justify why he needed military grade technology. _"No, but getting the parts and the money might be."_

"_I have friends in high places." _Ruben read with a smile. _"They'll be in contact with you soon. Code will be 'Flash Point'." _

"_Acknowledged." _The chat box abruptly disappeared, signalling that the connection had been severed. Any trace of their conversation, which had been conducted over a secure line it seemed, would have been deleted.

He hadn't had this much fun since conspiring with Marianne to assassinate the enemies of Charles zi Britannia.

* * *

_**August 30, 2017**_

It was during times like these when Ryze's patience wore thin. Ever since the eventful day at Tunis where he had forcibly evacuated the Viceroy, he had been nagged incessantly by the pathetic excuse for a man. His concerns ranged from the dull taste of the MRE rations to the deplorable conditions of military life. These were what he bothered to complain about while they were in the middle of a warzone, fighting for their lives as the NAL pursued relentlessly.

It was hard to believe that such a petty man existed.

"Viceroy," Ryze began, resisting the urge to shoot the noble before him, "in case you haven't noticed, I have far more pressing concerns than your breakfast for tomorrow."

"Such as?" The Viceroy asked, either stupid or merely pretending to be.

He resisted the urge to smack himself in the face. More importantly, he resisted the urge to smack the Viceroy in the face. "_Such_ _as_," Ryze drawled out, placing as much emphasis as his voice allowed, "preparing for what will surely be an inevitable assault on the city."

The Viceroy scoffed, as if the matter was somehow beneath him. "The city will be fine without you. I have complete faith in the abilities of Colonel Stone to deal with anything those rebels might throw at us."

As much as the Lt. Col. wished to believe that as well, he could not help but doubt. The Colonel and himself were the last of the regimental command still alive, the rest having been killed during the numerous battles fought while the regiment retreated further towards Algiers. It had been a miracle in and of itself that they even made it to the city at all with the blustering bureaucrat in tow.

Thankfully, he was spared from the inane and utterly asinine chatter by the sounds of a Y-3 bomber passing overhead. It was likely going out to patrol the surrounding areas and harass the enemy camp. More importantly for Ryze, though, was the fact that it had come from the north, which was the same as saying it came from the Mediterranean. The only logical conclusion he could arrive at was that elements of the Gibraltar fleet had finally reached them.

"Viceroy, I believe I have a solution to your problems." Ryze smiled smugly. "The Gibraltar fleet has docked into port. I'm sure you could hitch a ride with them back to Imperial controlled areas, where, of course, your completely valid concerns will be addressed by those more capable than myself." The commander said diplomatically, employing an uncanny amount of vocabulary that, it appeared, was enough to appease the politician.

The Viceroy mulled over his words, as if the decision was a difficult one for him to make. It was an act, of course, which fooled nobody present. "I suppose you are right, Commander. It pains me to have to abandon my men like this, but it is likely the Administration requires my services to keep the public calm!"

Ryze nodded gleefully, happy that he would soon be rid of the pest more than any actual feeling of agreement. He turned to address the squad assigned to his protection. "Sergeant, escort the Viceroy to the docks and see to his safety. Make absolutely certain that he gets onto a ship." He took a step closer and said the next bit in a hushed tone. "It is absolutely _imperative_ that he leaves the city by today. Understood?"

"Perfectly, sir." The sergeant replied, a conspiratory grin plastered on his face. It was no secret that the Lt. Col., who was now technically the second in command of the regiment, disliked those in public office and considered them a waste of time. "Follow me, Viceroy."

Ryze sighed happily as the party left the premises.

Peace at last. "This is Lt. Col. Ryze, I want bombers to hit the following sectors..."

* * *

_To: Milly Ashford (prez4lyf.a11)_  
_Fr: Lelouch Lamperouge (irockchess.a11)_  
_Re: Nothing Much_

_Dear Milly,_

_It kills me to have to be away like this, y'know? How is everyone coping so far? I hope they didn't take my abrupt departure too badly._

_Things at the military are terrible. Imagine PE class on steroids. Now multiply that by a hundred, and that's what I feel I'm being put through. Our Drill Sergeant has it out for us. It's his life mission to make every waking moment as painful as possible, apparently. Great news though, I got into Officer Training so it's bye bye Drill Sergeant. Bad news? I got stuck with someone who hates me even more. As we speak, I can barely lift my arms and it is taking a herculean amount of effort just to compose this letter. You should feel honored I'm writing to you. JK._

_Life as a royal is surprisingly quiet, which is probably the only good thing I can say about it so far. Everyone around me is either brown nosing or being utter assholes. I've got tons of associates now, but I only see one of them as a friend. His name's Victor Wolfe, a nice enough chap who's attitude reminds me of Rivalz. He's friendly, and he listens to orders well - just your kinda guy, eh?_

_Give everyone my love._

_Lelouch_

* * *

Victor Wolfe, new leader of Lelouch's former Squad since its two most capable strategists were promoted, entered the mess hall to a bizarre sight. Nineteen officer candidates were rushing to and fro, accosting random people. He watched them, intrigued by their strange behavior, as he grabbed a tray and filled it with all sorts of slop that was to be passed off as "food".

"Victor!" He saw his squad mates waving at him, almost a little too eagerly, and found his way to their table. Only then did he realize why they were excited.

Lelouch vi Britannia was sitting among them, one leg crossed over the other and an easy smile that would break down most people's resistance. "Good day, Vic."

The private gently placed his tray on the table, taking up a seat across the prince, and sat down. "What's all this," he gestured to the pandemonium around him, "about?"

"Officer Training, apparently." Lelouch answered. "Captain Sawyer said, and I quote, 'you are required to find you're own men for the upcoming PLABCOMS. If you can't bother with that, then don't bother showing up.' Suffice to say," Lelouch took a sip of water, "we're taking it to heart."

Victor eyed him up and down suspiciously. "You don't look like it."

"Oh, I'm panicking inside." Lelouch said, although appearing as calm as a Zen master. "I just choose not to show it."

"Right," Victor rolled his eyes disbelievingly.

"Anyway, back to the matter at hand." He leaned forward, and unfolded his foot to sit up straight, a decidedly more solemn demeanor showing. "Victor, I want you on my Platoon. I need a second in command I can trust completely."

"Are you sure?" Wolfe asked questioningly. "There are only eight of us left in the squad."

Lelouch furrowed his brows disapprovingly. "Haven't I taught you by now that numbers aren't everything?'

"If you're sure," Victor continued, "then there's no need to even ask."

"I just thought that with Wood being your former leader..." He left the sentence unfinished.

Victor snorted. "Wood was a great squad leader, but he never had quite the tactical brilliance you did." The others nodded their head fervently in agreement. "I don't think anyone here is going to fight me when I say we'd rather be under you. Now who else are you planning to invite to the team?"

"Higgins, Rawlins and O'Connor have worked with me. They know how I operate." Lelouch provided. "Suggestions for the last squad? We need five in total."

At least a dozen names were mentioned in an instant, none of which Lelouch understood in the garbled frenzy. "Alright, you boys talk it over for now. I'm going to get my three on board first."

He left them to their discussion, as they debated who would get the honor of being part of the winning platoon.

* * *

_To: Lelouch Lamperouge (irockchess.a11)_  
_Fr: Milly Ashford (prez4lyf.a11)_  
_Re: Nothing Much_

_Lulu,_

_You suck. Like a lot. You chose NOW of all times to get caught? Really? Do you know how much extra slack I had to pick up since my trusted VP left me? Where's the loyalty? The friendship? I thought I meant something to you..._

_Ok, I'm done ranting now._

_How is everyone taking things? Well enough, I suppose. Shirley only cried for a week. We found her half-drunk from some gin Rivalz smuggled in, mumbling about her "precious Lulu." An optimistic girl, wouldn't you say? Rivalz is doing much better, though he misses the extra dough from the good 'ol days more than anything else. His grades have improved now that he isn't sneaking out of school as often. I told you you were a bad influence on him. Now that we've pried him from your manipulative, criminal fingers, he's back on track to being a decent member of society. Nina's business as usual. I swear, that girl is a machine. We also inducted a new girl into the council. Her name's Kallen Stadtfeld. She's a shy one, but very intelligent. Kinda like you._

_Oh, and Coach Anderson has a message for you. "That's what you get for cutting my class all the time. Nobody escapes Karma." I couldn't type in the rest of his message, but he did his evil laugh for about five minutes._

_I'm happy that you got into Officer Training! Does that mean you get to be a major or something important once you're done? Wait, don't answer, I'll search it...waiting for the page to load...and your prize is to be a 2nd Lieutenant? Lame. They couldn't even bother to make you a 1st Lieutenant? That's just downright disgraceful. You should just march right out of there and come back to the Academy where your skills are put to much better use. We're hard pressed to find a suitable incentive for the females._

_As for being quiet...you really don't have that much free time do you? There are at least fifty different articles on the web about you! The latest news is that you're in a torrid affair with the EU Prime Minister's 2nd daughter. Lelouch, you naughty, naughty boy. I didn't know you had it in for the French. Is that why you never bothered with any of the Ashford girls?_

_Anyway, regarding everyone else, they seem to be acting pretty normal. I'd be more concerned if they weren't acting that way. _

_Take care, soldier boy._

_Milly_

_P.S. I do NOT like Rivalz._

* * *

"Sir," the intercom buzzed to life with a crackle, "Margrave Gottwald is here for you."

Ruben smiled knowingly to himself. The boy had certainly come through for him. "Send him in." He ordered, and not a moment later, his polished, reddish-brown cherry door creaked open. The boot was the first thing he noticed. It was all black with a lace ricocheting among the holes to secure it, and was gleaming, free from the mud that often caked the footwear of military men. Gottwald was dressed in the standard navy blue befitting a member of army, and occasional gold trimmings broke the monotony of the uniform. White gloves adorned his hands, pronouncing him as a KMF pilot to the world, and a plain robe draped around his shoulder pronouncing him as a Knight or a Noble. A decorative sword which remained sheathed at his hip completed his outfit.

"Greetings, Superintendent Ashford." The margrave said. "My name is Margrave Jeremiah Gottwald." He paused to gather his thoughts, thinking of how best to phrase his next sentence. "I believe a...mutual acquaintance of ours warned told you of me?"

Ruben peered at him curiously through his spectacles as he struggled to express himself.

"You must forgive me for intruding on your school, but I was sent to check on the security of your fine establishment." Jeremiah continued. "With the country as volatile as it is right now, I-"

"Just say what you need to, Margrave." The aged aristocrat said, vaguely amused by his long winded attempt to seamlessly weave in their code phrase into an actual conversation. "Time is a commodity I'd rather not spend on mincing pointless words."

Gottwald flushed. "Flash Point, sir."

Ruben nodded. "Tell me, what's your rank?"

"Like I said sir, I'm a margrave."

"I mean your military rank."

"Oh, a Major, sir." Jeremiah supplied hastily. "Of Valiant Lance." He added as an afterthought.

"And how, Margrave Gottwald," Ruben said slowly, "can you get me what I need?"

Jeremiah retrieved an envelope from his pocket, and handed it to Ruben. "This should solve the first of it. Twenty million Britannian pounds total, split into five checks and drawn from a total of nine different accounts to ensure it is untraceable."

"Where did he get the other five million from?" Ruben asked, intrigued. A Britannian royal was usually granted a stipend of fifteen million Britannian pounds as their yearly allowance.

Jeremiah shrugged nonchalantly. "His Highness has his own means which I am not privy to."

Ruben snorted. That probably meant Lelouch had earned it from his extracurricular activities. "And the parts?"

"It might take some time to procure certain items, but it will be delivered, when needed." The military man assured him. "Will you really be able to complete this order on time? No disrespect intended, but thirty days...that's not a lot of time to assemble a group of Knightmare variants."

"It will be sufficient." The Ashford Head replied with a dismissive wave, as if time were a trifle factor altogether. "The Prince is not especially picky about aesthetics, which makes the job infinitely easier. As long as it delivers results on the fields, then it will be enough for him."

* * *

_**September 23, 2017 (Officers' Training Day 29)**_

"This is it." Lelouch began, turning to face his platoon. "The day we've all been waiting for. The final PLABCOM challenge. I don't know about you lads, but I certainly don't plan to start losing now!" A growl of approval rose from the 47 soldiers under him.

"What's the plan, sir?" It was Higgins, the infiltrator from his final SQUABCOMS Challenge, who asked.

"Today's battle is a simple elimination. No special conditions for us to take advantage of." Lelouch gestured to the soon-to-be battleground. "Observe the ground, gentlemen, for it shall be our battlefield today. What do you see?"

"A single ridge dominates the landscape." O'Connor stated matter-of-factly. "Control of it will be key to victory."

"It slopes gently to the sides, but it is a steep climb from from our and the enemy's approach. The sides will be the entrance." Rawlins answered next.

Hawthorne, the man who had been agreed upon after an hour of debate, was next. "Two rivers cut through the sides. These will be strategic points to check an advance of either side."

"These rivers are shallow, and can be crossed easily though." Higgins observed. "It will be easy to stretch out the defenders into a long line, than smash through a single point to create an opening."

"Attacking the ridge head on would be suicidal of us." Wolfe replied, gaining him incredulous looks. "It will turn this battle into one of attrition, something we are not sure of winning. Strategy will decide this, not brute force."

Lelouch nodded at their answers appraisingly. "All of you are correct. The enemy expects us to contest the higher ground, so we will do the exact opposite." He pointed to the two bluish lines snaking through the grounds. "The rivers will be key here. They will create a trap which will be a gilded cage for our foes."

A gun erupted in the distance, communicating that the exercise had begun. The men snapped to attention, ready to receive their orders. "Rawlins, Higgins, you will take the right flank. Wolfe and Hawthorne will handle the left. Move out." The four sub-commanders ran to their respective squads and began relaying instructions. Like a well-oiled machine, they cranked to life, marching into position with deliberate step.

"What of us, sir?" O'Connor asked, curious what his role would be.

"We're going to bait the enemy, O'Connor." Lelouch answered with a feral grin. "Let's get a little closer to the action."

On the central ridge of the field, Simon Haywood watched the movement with abject curiosity. This was not the first time he had faced Lelouch vi Britannia, and had learned his lesson from before. Shoot to kill.

"Two squads closing in from each wing." His aide pointed out.

"I can see that." Haywood answered. "How intriguing."

"Sir?"

"He's left himself open to attack." The noble said. "If we moved down this ridge right now, we could overwhelm his guards. Cut off the head of the snake, so to speak." He weighed the choice in his head. If he maintained his position, their flanks would soon be exposed. "Have the 2nd and 3rd squad fall back behind the 1st river. They'll keep the threat of a flanking maneuver on the four squads. I will take the 1st and 4th squad to charge the enemy center. 5th squad, under you, will hold this position." He decided.

The two squads began surging down in a wave, hoping to end the battle quickly by taking out Lelouch from the fight. At that exact same moment, two squads, one on either side, began to storm the ridge, outnumbering and outmaneuvering the defenders left behind.

"Just as planned." Lelouch muttered. "O'Connor, contain the enemy advance. Keep them bottled on the ridge."

"Yes, sir." O'Connor readied his rifle with an ominous "click". "Come on men! Let's show them why we're the best!"

A war cry loosed from their lips and they charged forward. It was a short, but bloody, skirmish. A straight forward slug fest that resulted in heavy casualties on both sides. The damage, however, was done. Though having lost more men in the engagement, Lelouch had gained the time necessary for the final phase of his plan.

He was smiling manically as the remnants of Haywood's assault force, a total of fifteen men, surrounded him. It was an act that did not escape attention. "I've already won this one, Haywood." He said boldly. "Look at the ridge, it is held by my men." Simon spared a glance and saw it was true.

"With you gone, your men will fall apart." He said.

Lelouch raised a brow at him questioningly. "I have more faith in my subordinates than that. I didn't spend these past few days training them for no reason. The chain of command will carry on, even if you take me out now."

"We'll have to agree to disagree." He cocked his pistol and the world turned black.

"...and the winner is Lelouch vi Britannia!"

A barrage of light and noise met Lelouch as he regained his senses. The first thing he recognized was the grinning face of Victor staring down at him. "Welcome back, sir." He offered his hand to him.

Lelouch took it, and pulled himself up. "Did things go according to plan?"

"After we crushed the defenders of the ridge, we pressed the attack against those across the river and wiped them out. We outnumbered Haywood 2-to-1 at that point and had the higher ground. It was only a matter of closing in on him." Victor reported dutifully.

"Well done, Victor." Lelouch patted him on the back. "If you hadn't kept the men together after I was gone, this plan would've failed."

Victor beamed with pleasure and puffed his chest out as if showing off some medal. "Thank you, s-"

"Britannia."

Lelouch had become familiar with that voice, having been exposed to it constantly by now. "Haywood, what a pleasure." He turned around to face him.

"Congratulations on the win. You were the better strategist, it turned out." He commended in a modest tone.

Lelouch found himself genuinely surprised, and his hand moved on its own accord to shake the outstretched one of his adversary. "Just how did you know your men would continue to fight without you?" He asked. "You are the platoon, after all. They wouldn't be able to accomplish anything without you."

"Because I trained them to follow orders, not just from me, but those of my direct subordinates." Lelouch answered. "As officers, we aren't going to be able to micromanage every single detail, Haywood. You need to learn to delegate tasks to people you can trust. If you don't, you'll be making your men weaker because of it."

"I think I understand what you're trying to say. Congratulations again...Lelouch."

* * *

The Company Based Combat Simulations was markedly different from the other combat simulations. For one thing, the officers would be dealing with it through a computer program instead of using actual men. For another, they would be gaining access to vehicles for the first time. Knightmares were the common choice, although Lelouch personally preferred using tanks as he could get a squadron of them, around 18 in total, to face a squad of KMFs, which numbered only 6.

In fact, he had just finished demolishing another of his classmate's virtual forces.

Lelouch took off his helmet to exit from the simulation, and offered his comrade, Cameron, a cursory handshake in a show of sportsmanship. The proffered hand was, of course, accepted. "Close match, Cameron.'

Cameron snorted loudly. "Spare me the pleasantries, Lelouch. Even a blind man could see it wasn't remotely close. At the rate you're steamrolling these exercises, I think it's only a matter of time before the Captain challenges you himself."

"I doubt he'd bother." Lelouch replied. "Say, who do you think is going to win?" He nudged his head to the side.

Cameron peered at the screen, recognizing it as the battle between Haywood and Wood, whose rivalry was nearing legendary proportions. "Haywood's the better tactician, but Wood's defense, as of late, is a headache to deal with. Why does it matter?"

"They made a bet to settle their issues. Whoever wins here gets to claim gloating rights for a lifetime."

Cameron frowned. "You really think that will work?"

"No," Lelouch shook his head, "but it was worth a try."

They watched the computer generated battle a while longer. "Those two are pretty scary when they're like this." Cameron noted.

"If they worked together, imagine what they could accomplish." Lelouch said wistfully, before groaning. "Looks like a draw. Damn it! I was hoping this would settle the issue."

"We better bust out the earmuffs again or we'll never get a moment's peace." Cameron said. Lelouch nodded sadly.

* * *

"We can't keep hiding like this." Kallen said, crossing her arms.

Inoue frowned at her. "The Glasgow is still banged up since Shinjuku. We don't have the funds or the parts to fix it."

"We don't need the Glasgow." She replied heatedly. "We've managed without it before."

"And we paid the price for that dearly." It was Ohgi who spoke up this time. "Naoto might still be with us if we had the Glasgow then."

Kallen glared at him defiantly, but backed down nevertheless.

"Frankly, I'm getting worried about the poison gas." Yoshida said. "It's back in Prince Clovis's hands, which can only mean trouble for us."

"I agree with Yoshida. We can't allow that weapon to remain in Britannian hands." Sugiyama joined in.

Minami snorted at their bravado. "They've moved it to an even more secure facility this time. Charging in guns ablaze will get us all killed for nothing."

"There must be something we can do!" Tamaki insisted, slamming his fist on the table theatrically. "Maybe the other groups-"

Ohgi interrupted him. "The other groups don't give a shit." The core members turned deathly quiet at his announcement. "Whether we like it or not, we're on our own here. If we want to be of any use to Japan, we'll need to be patient. Rash action will get us all killed."

"If that bomb blows, thousands of Japanese are going to die!" Kallen growled, standing up. "I'm not sitting around here waiting for that to happen."

"Are you so eager to join Naoto in the next world?" Minami snapped angrily.

A resounding smack left a palm sized imprint on his cheek. "Fuck you guys. I'm done." Kallen turned on her heel and walked out, ignoring Ohgi's voice calling out to her.

"What the hell is wrong with you, Minami? There goes our best pilot!" Tamaki shouted.

"That was uncalled for!"

"She shouldn't even be here! She's a _child, _for goodness's sake!"

"That child is as dedicated as any one of us!"

"Hey Kallen, wait up!"

Ohgi closed his eyes softly as pandemonium broke out. His group was falling apart. A single tear streaked down his face. "I'm sorry, Naoto. I've failed you." He whispered softly and morosely, mourning the loss of his friend.

* * *

_**September 29, 2017 (Officers' Training Day 35)**_

"It gives me great pleasure to introduce General Michele Manfredi, Grand Master of the Knights of St. Michael." Fervent applause met Major Cromwell's announcement.

It wasn't everyday that a Grand Master of one of the four Knight Orders of Britannia showed up. The black haired man, donned in his imposing Knight of St Michael uniform, was practically a celebrity in the military. Lelouch had a faint idea why the Euro-Britannian, which were former nobles of the now Democratic Europe that had fled to Britannia, was here.

"Good Morning, Class of September 2017. It is an honor for me to speak before you today. There is no finer profession in the world than that of a soldier. There is no greater service than the defense of the Empire!" The men clapped approvingly. "In the past 70 days, you have all shown your mettle. You surpassed...nay, you _conquered _the trials we placed before you! Today, you may call yourself the true sons of Britannia! I commend you all." The applause now turned into cheers, and the general waited for it to die down before continuing.

"It is my pleasure to welcome the newest officers of the army."

And so it began, as all twenty of the graduates stepped forward in their turn to accept the commission, polite clapping offered to some, zealous shouts to others. When the last of them had stepped back into place, the general turned to the enlisted once again.

"The Holy Empire of Britannia has many enemies. Enemies which would seek to unravel all that we have done. We, the Military, are the bulwark against chaos. We are the Sword and Shield of the Empire, we who would lay down our lives so that others might live. It is the Imperial Duty of every soldier to maintain order against those who seek to disrupt the natural order. From this day forth, you shall serve as part of the 2nd Quebec Imperial Regiment station in Area 17. Second Lieutenant Lelouch vi Britannia, step forward!"

For the second time that day, Lelouch marched towards the Italian general. "Throughout your training, you have show exemplary skill and strategic foresight. In the hundreds of simulations which you took part in, you have never lost a single one!" Manfredi sounded somewhat impressed by his feat. "It is for this reason that you have been made acting CO of the 2nd and 3rd Battalions of the 2nd Quebec!"

The men roared encouragingly at the announcement. "Report to Major Cromwell's office after the ceremony, Your Highness." Manfredi whispered.

* * *

Lelouch rapped his knuckles on the familiar door thrice.

"Enter."

Major Cromwell and General Michele were waiting for him. "Welcome, Your Highness." Manfredi said, grinning widely.

"It's an honor, sir." Lelouch replied dutifully. "What are my orders?"

"You are to lead the 2nd and 3rd Battalions to reinforce Colonel Obadiah Ryze, who is holding out with the 2nd Quebec in Algiers."

"Colonel Ryze?" Lelouch repeated questioningly. From what news he had heard, the man was still a Lieutenant Colonel.

"Yes, Colonel Ryze." Manfredi confirmed. "Colonel Stone was killed in action last week." He explained.

"Understood sir. What transport will we be taking?"

"Given the timely nature of your assignment, a fleet of planes has been arranged to bring your men to the newly captured city of Sidi Bel Abbes, the closest airport we have to the front. Colonel Orion rui Britannia and Altair nu Britannia are heading the assault there."

Lelouch stiffened at the mention of his two siblings. "Am I to aid in their advance?"

"No, your objective is to reach Colonel Ryze as soon as you can. These are orders from Field Marshall Cornelia herself. Major Cromwell, the equipment?"

"The 88th Armored Regiment and Icarus Lance will be joining you as well." Cromwell said, handing him a folder.

Manfredi took a step towards him. "You leave in two days. God speed, Your Highness. Time is running out for the 2nd Quebec."

* * *

_"...If one studies the inner complexities of the Britannian military, one realizes how truly confusing it is. So quickly did the military service expand during the reign of the 98th Emperor, Charles zi Britannia, that there was a severe failure to properly indoctrinate many of the members, especially those from satellite Areas (i.e. Area 1, 2, 7, 9 and 10). This resulted, not surprisingly, into a situation where there was no true standard Britannian Army Doctrine. Officers that were exceptional were often given much leeway to teach however they wished, a mistake which almost fractured the Army's unity..."_

_-excerpt from: "Military, Doctrine and Unity, a case study" by Albert Mount_

_"To gather information, but cannot analyze it, is pointless. To analyze information that is wrong is worthless." - Lelouch vi Britannia _

**AN: Ok, I'm one of those people who think that Mechas aren't all that sound as an idea. Still, I'm not going to say Knightmares are completely useless. Like the story shows, I believe they do have uses in urban combat, but aren't as useful as tanks in open warfare. Physics, back me up here!**

**Second, this story does not have a pairing yet. It will be some time before romance will even be a part of this story. If you want a particular pairing, give me reasons why this Lelouch would be better off with so and so, aside from your personal preference.**

**C.C. and Geass WILL be part of this story eventually. The story is really starting to diverge now. Many events may or may not happen as in canon.**

**Finally, I'm looking for beta readers. If anyone wants to volunteer, please leave me a PM. I want somebody I can bounce ideas off of and to double check my errors. They'll probably get to see my notes as well. :P**

**More reviews = happier author = faster updates ^^ leave your thoughts, whether good or bad, in the box below and click send! It's as easy as that.  
**


	4. Opening Moves

**AN: Here it is folks. Bon appetite!**

**Disclaimer: Let me see...nope still don't own Code Geass. Sorry.**

**Chapter 4: Opening Moves**

_"His hatred for bureaucrats was second only to his hatred for the enemy." - Simon Haywood (on General Obadiah Ryze)_

_"To the commanders on both sides, it was clear that controlling the major ports along the coast would be key to victory. From east to west, these were Port Said, Suez, Alexandria, Marsah Matruh, Tobruk, Benghazi, Sidra, Tripoli, Tunis, Algiers, Oran, Al Hoceima, Tangier and Rabat. Victory, in both war and chess, was not decided by total strength, but effective strength. How quickly and how many of our forces could be brought onto the field would decide the war." -Lelouch vi Britannia _

* * *

_**September 30, 2017 **_

From the moment he walked into the briefing room, Lelouch realized something was very,_ very_ wrong.

Even with the combined officers of the newly formed 2nd and 3rd Battalion, the 88th Armored Regiment and Icarus Lance present, there were still less than fifty men waiting inside. "Where is everyone else?" He asked, almost afraid of the answer he'd get.

"We're all here, sir." Haywood answered.

Lelouch's distressed eyes swept the room to be certain, grudgingly accepting the reality of the situation.

Britannia had the men, but not the officers to wage its wars. He knew that the situation was bad, hence the ridiculously accelerated program he had undergone, but for them to reach this point…

It was pitiful.

By all rights, there should have been at least a Lieutenant Colonel, half a dozen Majors and scores of Captains present. Instead, he had an assembly of 2nd Lieutenants fresh from training, all looking equally unsure of how to proceed. In fact, there seemed to be, at first glance at least, no veterans in the group.

It was as if the congregation of green officers had been brought together _specifically_ to fail in the task at hand. Lelouch considered if it was a deliberate act of sabotage from his enemies, and found that the more he dwelled on it, the more likely it seemed to be. This would have been an opportune time for them to strike, for if he failed in his first mission, then no force on earth could save him from his father's wrath. If he succeeded, it would be no great victory for him as the mission seemed simple enough.

In hindsight, Lelouch realized it probably wasn't that strange he had been assigned as commanding officer of the motley crew, if one accepted that there were no senior officers at all.

"Is there anyone here who's actually been on the field?" He asked hopefully, and was not surprised when the men began sharing hesitant looks. Great, they really _were_ fresh graduates.

With a long sigh, he carried on. Their silence was answer enough for him. "I am 2nd Lieutenant and Brevet Lieutenant Colonel Lelouch vi Britannia, acting CO of our task force until we rendezvous with Colonel Ryze and the 2nd Quebec." Some of the men, presumably those from the other units, stood a little straighter at the mention of his name. "Haywood, bring us up to date."

"Sir, the 2nd and 3rd Battalion stands at 2,000 active personnel, organized into 8 rifle companies of 200 men each, and 4 support companies of 100 men each, sir." Haywood replied crisply, never pausing during his report.

"What of Icarus Lance?" Lelouch asked, turning his expectant gaze towards the unfamiliar faces gathered to his left.

One of the chaps cleared his throat, attracting the attention of everyone in the room. He began to fidget in place as he became acutely aware of the sudden focus on his person. "Your Highness-"

"None of that 'Your Highness' crap here." Lelouch interrupted gruffly, causing some eyes to widen at his unexpected brusqueness. "'Sir' will suffice, or you may use my rank, if you feel the need for formality."

"R-right," his eyes fleetingly met Lelouch's purple ones before he cast them downwards subserviently. "Sir, I'm 2nd Lieutenant Andrew Simmons of Icarus Lance. We…uh, we have 25 Knightmares and…9 Atlas Transports to, uh, carry…stuff, sir." Simmons stuttered lamely.

Lelouch 's brow shot up at his rather lacking response. "What of your support personnel, Lieutenant Simmons?"

"We have four engineers with us, sir." He managed more steadily this time.

"88th Armored?"

"Sir!" Another boy barked sharply, causing his neighbors to wince at the volume he employed. Lelouch half expected him to break out into a salute any moment now. "2nd Lieutenant Tiberius Hopkins of the 88th Armored, sir! We are currently at full strength with 74 Main Battle Tanks plus the attached support units and the M-4 Command Cruiser, sir!"

"Thank you, Lieutenant Hopkins." Lelouch said, acknowledging him with a slight incline of his head.

He took a step to the side, revealing a white screen behind him and, seconds later, a detailed map of Algeria appeared. "Our mission, gentlemen, is to reach 2nd Quebec's position in Algiers." A small red circle was projected by the laser pointer in Lelouch's hand. "At 0800 tomorrow, a fleet of planes will be arriving at the Montreal Airbase to bring us here," he moved the pointer so that it was now highlighting another black dot, "Sidi Bel Abbes, approximately 450 kilometers away. Given the importance of the port of Algiers, we have been given priority over other units for transportation. It is imperative that we reach the port before it falls into enemy hands."

"How much time do we have, sir?" Wood asked.

"Intelligence indicates that they can hold out for another two weeks." The officers, if anything, looked distressed by the assessment. "We will reach them in four days." He pronounced boldly, a not so subtle smirk tugging on his lips.

Total silence.

"Any questions?"

"Sir, just how exactly do you plan to move 2,000 men across the desert?" Haywood cocked an eyebrow. "In four days, no less!"

"Simple, Lieutenant Haywood. Stationed a few kilometers from Sidi Bel Abbes is the 16th Imperial Regiment under Colonel Altair Britannia. They've established a field base, which from what I've gathered, is to be one of three staging areas for the renewed counteroffensive. That places a significant amount of material and, more importantly, transport vehicles under his command."

Hopkins was the first to realize what he was suggesting, nearly jumping to answer. "You plan on turning us into a mechanized regiment, sir?"

"Only temporarily, Lieutenant Hopkins," Lelouch answered, giving him an approving smile. "The Colonel has a surplus of J-19 carrier which we can…borrow. With these, mobility won't be an issue."

"Why would the colonel give them to us, sir?" Haywood questioned yet again. "He would be loath to part with such important logistical equipment even for a brief period of time."

"Leave that to me." He said instead of answering. "I'm sure he can be convinced to see things our way." The conceited grin now on Lelouch's face only served to reinforce his image of utmost confidence. "Now for your assignments…"

* * *

_"I don't care if they're Britannian or not, just make absolutely certain they're volunteer." _

Those words ringed in Jeremiah Gottwald's ears. It was the first verbal instruction he had received from his prince and he caught himself having doubts about it. A feeling of shame swept over him as he realized he could not even bring himself to obey a single instruction without question, but Number pilots…it was a completely alien concept to him.

The KMF Corps was a coveted assignment precisely because the pilots were handpicked, cream of the crop troops. There were several stringent requirements that had to be met before someone was accepted in.

First, and foremost, was skill. All pilots had to score at least 80 percent in the simulated tests, which was in itself a feat already. Very few military personnel actually managed to obtain the necessary scores to be considered, making pilots a commodity as rare as the liquid superconductor necessary to power the Knightmare Frames.

Second, a pilot had to gain the recommendation of a KMFC officer and his immediate superior. This was considerably easier to secure for those with the right connections as it was a measure of political clout, not military prowess.

On paper, these were the only factors to be considered.

If only life were that simple. Britannian prejudice meant that all KMFC pilots had to be Britannians with exceedingly few exceptions accepted from Honorary Britannian ranks. Even then, these were always from satellite areas that held extreme loyalty to the Empire. Accepting an Honorary Britannian from a developing area of questionable allegiance? Unorthodox was putting things mildly.

Understandably, many Britannian KMF pilots had refused his offer. Asking them to leave their comfortable posts to pilot experimental frames – most of which were dangerous to being with - in a warzone with the highest mortality rate was a bit much, despite the very real likelihood of promotion _if_ they survived. To be honest, Gottwald doubted he would have taken up the deal had it come from anyone else. Only one other Britannian had accepted the transfer; a young, adventurous soul by the name of Maximillan.

Hence, Jeremiah's current predicament.

He now had to _ask _for volunteers from _Numbers _of all people. This was simply downright demeaning. He was a member of nobility for God's sake! He never had to ask these wretches to do _anything. _If need be, he'd just order them to do it and if they refused, have them summarily executed for insubordination.

Jeremiah surveyed the 128 Honorary Britannians in front of him. They were those who actually qualified for acceptance into the KMFC, if not for their heritage. He grimaced, bitterly swallowing his pride, before opening his mouth to speak. "By request of his Highness, Lelouch vi Britannia," Gottwald repeated the message for their benefit and the exact conditions that they would find themselves in if they accepted.

He had barely finished when someone stepped forward without the slightest hint of hesitation. "Private Suzaku Kururugi volunteers, sir." He spoke assertively, though he did not seem terribly enthused with the idea. In fact, Kururugi looked downright annoyed, as if he were performing some necessary duty rather than actually volunteering, something that Gottwald found strange.

A few seconds passed and another person stepped forward with the same certainty Suzaku had shown. "Private Kenji Yamashina volunteers, sir." In contrast with Kururugi's calm, leveled tone, his was passionate but uneven. There was a fire beneath his eyes; a mix of determination and ambition seeking to be released upon the world.

The margrave paused to consider them who would soon be his subordinates. Yamashina was eager, anxious even, to please. Kururgi, on the other hand, remained deferential but not submissive.

He looked at Jeremiah as an equal, and it grated on the margrave's nerves.

"The rest of you are dismissed." Jeremiah ordered, replying to their perfunctory salute with his own. He waited for the rest of the men to clear out before addressing the two. "Private Kururugi, Private Yamashina, you are hereby transferred to my command. Report to my office tomorrow at 0500 sharp."

* * *

The command deck of newly christened _HMAS Avalon _was a hive of activity. Officers rushed to and fro, spewing orders and monitoring their posts vigorously. Technicians fretted over their monitors like a mother would dote over her child. In the background, the vibrant, rhythmic hum of the ship's twin engines could be heard clearly.

The excitement in the air was palatable. And who could blame them? There was a certain novelty to running the world's first air cruiser, after all.

At the heart of the room Prince Schneizel el Britannia who observed the proceedings with eyes made of ice. The captain of the_ Avalon_, Admiral Zacharias Shaw, dutifully stood on one side and Kanon Maldini, the Prince's aide, on the other.

Abruptly, all sounds died as those present held their breath. This was the culmination of their collective efforts. This was the apotheosis of technological advancement and human brilliance.

This was their moment.

The engines let out its roar that rose in gradual crescendo. The cruiser's titanium hull creaked loudly from the strain. For a while, nothing happened.

Then it began. Slowly at first, but surely, the ship began to rise into the air, its nose pointed at an upward angle as if longing to take its rightful place among the clouds. The engines continued to whir, louder and louder, its sound blocking out all others as it struggled against the oppressive weight of gravity.

Then, as quickly as it started, the deck leveled out. The engines quieted down, content once again to emit its familiar and considerably less conspicuous purr.

Admiral Shaw peered at the prince through his peripherals, and saw that his face was set in an unreadable expression. "Your Highness?" He did not have to say any more for his question to be understood.

"Go ahead, Captain."

Shaw two steps forward, taking control of the command deck. "Status report!" He barked, and the room surged to life once more.

"Engines are operating at optimal efficiency!"

"Main guns ready! Manual targeting is online!"

"Shields calibrated and capacitors are fully charged!"

And so it continued, with each officer reporting on a specific part of the ship. Schneizel remained impassive, staring into the main screen blankly.

When the last of the reports had been delivered, the captain clicked his heels and brought his hand to his temple in salute. "Your Highness, _HMAS Avalon_ reports all systems are green."

In that instant, the melancholic spell over the prince was broken and he smiled a genuine smile. "Excellent," he dismissed the salute with a wave of his hand, "set sail for Nevada, Captain."

"Aye, Your Highness."

"Now for the real fun." Schneizel muttered to himself. Behind him, Kanon smirked knowingly. "Kanon?"

The aide discretely handed him a folder with the "Joint Chiefs of Staff" label on it. "The 2nd, 4th and 6th Armies are undergoing renewed training in Greenland in preparation for the invasion of Russia." Kanon began as Schneizel skimmed through the folder's contents. "The 3rd and 5th Armies continue the war against the NAL and the MEF under Field Marshall Cornelia. They should be in Jerusalem within days. Meanwhile, 8th and 12th Armies, in conjunction with the 2nd Pacific Fleet, continue to crack down on insurgencies in Areas 11, 12, 14 and 15. General Calares requests that the 15th Army be allowed to reinforce these operations."

A flicker of annoyance passed through the Prime Minister's face. "That's the second time he's asked this week."

"Shall I send him a letter, sir?" Kanon asked with a singsong tone, rubbing his gloved hands together gleefully.

"Yes, do so." Schneizel said without hesitation. "On second thoughts, make that a strongly worded letter." He turned his head sharply to face his aide. "This is the last I want to hear of this, understood?"

Kanon grinned maniacally, a sight that would have made even the toughest of veterans shiver. "Perfectly, sir."

"What news from Camelot?" Schneizel turned his head towards the main screen once more, making sure that the pilot was keeping them on track.

"Earl Asplund has yet to find a suitable devicer for the Lancelot, unfortunately. He requests that one of the Knights of the Round be made available to him."

Schneizel pressed his lips into a thin line. "Out of the question, tell him to keep looking." He answered dismissively. "Anything about Lelouch?"

"SIS agents have put together a brief of his recent activities. Interestingly, he's been in contact with the Ashfords and several other figures of Area 11. Our best bet is tha-"

Schneizel interrupted with his hand and withdrew his vibrating phone with the other. Kanon looked at him questioningly. It was unlike the Prince to answer his phone during their briefings.

"Who is this?" Schneizel demanded. There were very few people who had his number. With him, it was usually a "don't call me, I'll call you" stance. The fact that an unknown had managed to secure his number was disturbing, to say the least.

"Why brother dearest, don't you recognize my voice?"

"Lelouch?" Schneizel asked incredulously. "How did you get my number?"

On the other end, Schneizel could practically hear his smug grin. "I swiped it from Clovis' phone when he wasn't looking. I thought it might be useful. Turns out I was right."

"What do you want?" Schneizel asked, annoyed, yet secretly pleased if the faint smile on his face was anything to go by.

"Plenty of things." Lelouch answered vaguely. "But for now, battlefield data for my newest toys will suffice."

"Ah yes," Schneizel gestured to Kanon for the SIS report and skimmed through it, "your pet project. You do realize that I have several groups actually producing a 7th Gen Frame? What you are offering is little more than a 5th Gen one, if the specs are anything to go by."

"4th Gen, actually." Lelouch corrected with a chiding tone. "But I've found a little gap in our methods, a chink in the armor, if you will."

"Pray tell, dear brother, of your momentous discovery." Schneizel said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He gave Kanon back the brief and nodded in thanks to his assistant.

"The Sutherland and the Gloucester are diverse models, capable of close and ranged combat. You'd be hard pressed to find a design as well rounded. However, I don't plan to beat the Sutherland at everything, just at _something._"

"Specialization?" Schneizel's brow arched upwards.

"Correct. It's all very preliminary, I should say, but the prototype has remarkable defensive capabilities. It might rank as a 4th Gen overall, but in its field it could easily be 6th Gen tech."

"What purpose would this serve though? My experimental frame would render yours obsolete." The Prime Minister insisted.

"Would this be the one under Camelot group? Don't bother, I know all about it. I've got people on the inside too, you know." There was a slight pause. "Will there be any MPs showing up for me tomorrow?" Lelouch jokingly asked.

"I'm surprised you know about that." Schneizel remarked genuinely. "And no, there won't be any MPs."

"To answer your question then, Britannian Army Doctrine, up until this point, has always placed significant focus on creating highly versatile Knightmares. We've standardized things so that a single model is thought to be able to handle any situation perfectly. But therein lies the contradiction! If it is to be a jack of all trades, it is then the master of none. Everything has a cost as they say." Lelouch explained. "As for your prototype, how many hundreds of millions did it cost to build the Lancelot? How many billions? We could far more easily and cheaply make breakthroughs in individual fields rather than forcing the entire thing to advance at the same time. My frame is proof of that."

Schneizel's interest had been piqued. "How much did it cost you?"

"Twenty million to build four of them."

He let out a whistle. "That's impressive." complimented Schneizel. "Very economical of you. The authorization for battlefield testing I'll have to run by Cornelia first, however." He said, almost regretfully.

"Right," Lelouch snorted, "as if that's going to be that big of an obstacle for you."

"For an ally, this would be no problem. Are we allies, Lelouch?"

"Of course." Lelouch answered smoothly. "We've said as much in Pendragon, haven't we?"

"Then what is your price?"

Lelouch hesitated. "My…price?" What was his price? Did he have one, or was this all merely to spite the Emperor? Was he motivated purely be petty vengeance?

No. A thousand times no. The very thought was repulsive to him. Why did he go through all this then? All it would take was a single bullet through the temple to end his captivity.

"Nunnally…" he whispered softly into the phone. "I want a world that she would have lived peacefully in."

"Specifically?" Schneizel pressed, demanding a more solid answer.

"The removal of Social Darwinism from Imperial Doctrine, promotion of Equality and Human Rights for all, Numbers included, and the abolition of the Aristocracy."

"Done." replied Schneizel, a little too quickly. "Help me secure the Throne, and your wishes will be granted."

Lelouch found himself surprised by the speed of his reply. What he was asking for were neither easy feats nor popular decisions for a future emperor to make. "Out of curiosity, what exactly were you prepared to offer me?"

"A fourth of the Empire, if need be." Lelouch balked. How badly did he want to become Emperor that he'd allow secession? "You're someone I'd loathe to fight."

"You would still win." Lelouch pointed out. "On your worst day, you would, at the very least, get a stalemate."

"After half the Empire had been burned to the ground between us?" Schneizel shot back rhetorically. "A quarter is a fair enough price, I should say. Authorization for battlefield deployment has been granted. Code is Alpha-One-Eight-Golf-Two-Five-Lima."

"Copy that."

Schneizel looked conflicted, a mix between worry and calm fighting for dominance. "Be careful in North Africa, Lelouch." He whispered, so soft it was barely heard. "You have enemies in the military."

"Thank you for your concern, but I'm well aware of that. It would be better if you called off the SIS agent tailing me." said Lelouch in an accusatory tone.

"You overestimate my reach." Schneizel retorted, his haste giving him away more than his words.

"You underestimate my intelligence." Lelouch countered just as quickly and the line went dead with a monotone beep.

* * *

_To: Milly Ashford (prez4lyf.a11)_  
_Fr: Lelouch Lamperouge (irockchess.a11)_  
_Re: Nothing Much_

_Milly,_

_2nd Lieutenant and Brevet Lieutenant Colonel vi Britannia reporting. _

_Yes, that means I've graduated. Not so lame now, huh?_

_I'm getting shipped off to Area 17 soon to help clean up the mess they've made. Two of my brothers are going to be there. It's going to be such a treat meeting with them again. Maybe after the fighting's done, we'll get together 'round a campfire to dance and sing songs. Yipee!_

_Sigh…I'll confess. I have a thing for French chicks. The way she looks at me just drives my hormones crazy! It's only genetics I suppose, considering daddy dearest fell for a Frenchie as well…I'm afraid I won't be able to return to the Academy. I can't stand to be away from my love. Don't worry though, I have complete and utter faith in Rivalz ability to play girl bait. Objectively speaking, he is kinda cute, wouldn't you agree? _

_This Kallen Stadtfeld sounds like an interesting one. Better keep an eye on her. _

_Lelouch _

_P.S. Oh, and send the Coach my love. I'll be sure to bring back dates for him once I finish quelling the rebels._

* * *

_To: Lelouch Lamperouge (irockchess.a11)_  
_Fr: Milly Ashford (prez4lyf.a11)_  
_Re: Nothing Much_

_Lulu,_

_Nope, still lame. According to Google, Brevet rank is only a temporary measure. Which means sooner or later, it's back to 2nd Lieutenant for you. Thought you could pull a fast one over me, eh? _

_Congrats on graduating, btw. It was on the news the other day. You looked quite dashing in your uniform. I think Shirley fell in love all over again. Can't say I blame her…it's like a dream come true having the mysterious schoolboy crush turn into Prince Charming complete with a sword! I swear you two are like a cheap rip-off of a fairy tale. _

_Cheer up! I'm sure your brothers won't be so bad…whoever they are. You really have to be more specific about that since you have about a hundred of them, don't you? Nothing like a good gladiator fight to bond over. Especially if you are trying to kill each other. _

_My, my, Lulu. So the rumors were true after all. How scandalous of you! Shirley will be heartbroken to learn of your infidelity. I'm sure she'll be content with being 1st consort though. Why are you suddenly interested in Kallen? Planning for your 2nd consort already? Aren't we an early bird…not even Emperor and already planning out the harem!_

_Rivalz is too friendly. He'd never be able to play the aloof card properly. That's what made girls ape-shit crazy about you. _

_Be safe out there,_

_Milly_

_P.S. Coach said and I quote, "Make sure those dates are fresh, Britannia! Otherwise it's fifty laps around the gym for you." I'm pretty sure he'll make good on that promise, royalty be damned. _

* * *

**_October 1, 2017 (Z Day)_**

Sidi Bel Abbes was a ruin.

There was barely a single building standing that wasn't structurally questionable. Giant craters were left where slabs of concrete should have been, giving the roads a striking resemblance with the moon's surface. Occasionally, a burning car would be spotted parked along the sideways, casting a gloomy light on the bullet-ridden bodies that littered the streets. The pyrrhic flames illuminated the broken city under the night sky for miles around. Half the houses didn't have roofs. The other half had been demolished, whether by the fires or the battle, Lelouch did not know. It was a testament of what lengths the army had gone to take back the city, if it could still be called that.

With the exception of the sand, it was a scene eerily reminiscent of Tokyo seven years ago. Lelouch clenched his fists involuntarily at the mere thought.

Only the airbase, from which he had just landed, was kept in working condition.

Wood straightened his back, spitting at the ground futilely to get rid of the taste of vomit. "Dear God…" He muttered in disgust, his face still a little green. "What did they do to this place?"

"What was necessary." Haywood replied coolly, entirely unaffected by the grim scenery. "These _rebels _need to face the consequences of their actions. For those who rise against the Empire, there is only one end, annihilation."

"These were citizens!" Wood protested. "We cannot generalize them all for the actions of a few."

"Why did you join the army?" Lelouch asked, turning to face him. He was equally unperturbed by the environment.

"To protect the Empire, of course." He answered proudly, but weakly, still feeling faint from losing his dinner prematurely.

"If that is the case, I suggest you steel yourself for what's to come." Lelouch advised. "Because you'll have to do the same thing here one day." He offered a sarcastic smile. "For the _Empire_, of course."

"These civilians are as much a part of the Empire as I am!" Wood fumed, a righteous fire burning in his chest.

Lelouch let out a bitter laugh, and Wood winced, as if his tone had stung. "If you truly believe that then you are a _fool!_" He bellowed. "There is a very big difference between the Empire and its slaves."

A jeep skidded to a halt in front of them. "Sir!" One of their scouts dismounted, offering a respectful salute. "We've made contact with the 16th Imperial." He informed them.

Lelouch ignored him momentarily. "Haywood, what's our status?"

"Sir, 1st and 2nd companies are ready to move in fifteen. 1st support is setting up with their equipment."

"Any armor on the ground yet?"

"The 3rd troop of 1st squadron is ready for action. The squadron will be prepared within the hour, but the rest of the armored regiment will take half a day to finish mobilizing."

"Assemble the rest of the men and whatever armor we've got outside the city and keep them in line." Lelouch instructed. "Split the men into groups of 25 and be prepared to move out in an instant."

"Yes sir."

Lelouch turned towards the scout and stepped into the vehicle. "Lead the way, Corporal."

It became clear that the base had more vehicles than they had originally estimated as they passed several rows worth of transports and Sutherlands, the crews either resting or eating. In the distance, it was apparent that there were more guarding the perimeter from attack.

It didn't take long for them to reach the base's centerpiece, Colonel Altair Britannia's G-1 MCV. The guards had been expecting them. "Keep the engine warm." He told them. "I won't be long."

He left his pair of escorts in the jeep and proceeded alone. There were considerably fewer officers and personnel during the night shift, with most resting for tomorrow's activities. "So you've joined us at last." Altair said, looking unaffected by his arrival. "Congratulations on making Brevet _Lieutenant _Colonel." The emphasis was subtle, but the message was clear enough. Altair was still his superior according to military hierarchy.

"Yes sir, of the 2nd Quebec Regiment." Lelouch replied, highlighting the difference in their regiments. By a technicality, he was still the CO of an independent force not answerable to Altair. "Have you been made aware of my mission, sir?"

Altair indicated that he had. "I'm curious how you plan to reinforce Algiers. The road going there is mined and the enemy is heavily entrenched in several positions. My analysts say that only by combining our forces can we break through in the mission's time frame. I would, of course, be happy to assists you." What he really meant was that he'd be happy to have Lelouch indebted to him.

Lelouch, much to his chagrin, smirked. "I'm glad you said that, but we're not joining forces." He gestured towards the map with his hand. "You're losing to Orion, aren't you?"

Altair furrowed his brows. "How did you-"

"It doesn't matter how I know." Lelouch interjected. "What matters is that it's happening. His regiment has made camp along the coast near Arzew, while his allies in the 9th Bolivar Regiment are securing Oran. If he beats you to Relizane, you'll be left grasping at the straws." His smirk, if possible grew even wider as he prepared to put the final nail in the coffin. "Face it brother, you _need _me to help you. So let's cut the bullshit, yeah?"

Altair snorted. "Diplomatic, as always. Fine, what's your plan?"

"Strike hard, strike fast and send them running." Lelouch began. "Directly to your east is Mascara, and south of that is Saida, both with moderate garrisons, but nothing like the forces facing us here. Give me enough trucks to transport my men, and I'll blitz my way to Saida."

Altair stared at the map critically, mulling it over in his mind. "In the meantime, I leave a garrison here and move east on Mascara." His eyes lit up as he realized what the plan was.

Lelouch nodded. "Correct. If Saida falls, the contingent at Mascara and those blocking you on the Trans-African will fall back to avoid getting cut off. Your men here can then push forward, allowing you to easily overtake Orion."

"I'll have the advantage of time. It would take his men a day to realize that the rebels have abandoned their positions." He said happily. He looked as if he could have kissed his brother. Lelouch dearly hoped he wouldn't. To be on the safe side, he took a few steps back from his now enthused sibling. "How many carriers do you need?"

"Eighty for my men, twenty for my supplies." Lelouch answered without pause, having already calculated what he'd need the previous day. "Not necessarily all at once as most of my men haven't landed, but I'll need sixteen working carriers within the hour. My advance guard will clear the way tonight. By tomorrow, the walls of Saida will fall." He promised.

Altair's eyebrow rose in surprise. "You plan to move tonight? That's pretty extreme, even for Cornelia. Not that I'm complaining." He added hastily.

"My men are my concern, not yours." Lelouch said, dismissing his concerns. "Do we have a deal? Your trucks for my help and we'll call it even."

"Agreed."

* * *

Unknown to most people, beneath the Ashford Academy was one of the Ashford Foundation's many decommissioned labs. The past few years had seen it as nothing more than storage for Marianne Britannia's very own Ganymede, the ancestor of the modern Knightmare.

More recently though, it was the home to four never before seen contraptions. In the words of Eric Maximillan, they were "the ugliest pieces of shit he'd ever had the misfortune to pilot."

It was hard not to agree with him. The AFK-158 "Argyl" was, in a word, functional. Aesthetics was one of the first things that had been sacrificed to complete it on time. Anything that wasn't necessary was stripped away or ignored in favor of getting the machines to work on the field.

Its right arm had been stripped down to the elbow, where two parallel steel rods were grafted on. On its left, a heavily modified Knight Police riot shield was present. It was made of several plates of steel spaced a distance apart, while the second layer of steel that was its interior was at a slope. Treaded wheels were used to in place of land spinners, making the thing far slower but more stable. Three factspheres were employed, one on each shoulder and one on the box-shaped forehead.

The four pilots quickly reached a consensus on it. The Argyl would likely give the MEF's Bamides a run for their money for the "worst looking Knightmare" award.

"I'm not entirely sure about this, sir." Gottwald confided. "These machines you've built…they don't look the part."

Ruben frowned at his companion. "They're built for _war_ not a fashion contest." He crossed his arms defensively. "Give it a spin first before judging it. You know what they say about book covers."

"Fine." Jeremiah grumbled. "Kururugi, you're up first!"

"Yes, sir!" The Japanese teen ran up to his unit, a "04" neatly painted on its chest and back for easy identification.

"Coward," Ruben chuckled mirthfully, placing the com link on his ear.

"Survivor," corrected Gottwald with a grin.

Ruben rolled his eyes. "Private Kururugi, do you read me?"

"I copy sir."

"Begin mobility test."

"Roger that. A04 online." was the curt answer, slightly muffled by static. Concurrently, the Knightmare woke up, taking a few steps forward, before engaging its treads to gain speed. It shot across the room, sliding across the floor like a figure skater and completing a figure-of-eight before coming to a stop. "Mobility test completed. All functions in order."

"Prepare for weapon testing." Ruben instructed.

"Won't this disturb the classes?" Gottwald asked.

"This entire lab is Knightmare proof." The superintendent replied self-assuredly. "A battle could be going on here and none would be the wiser. Kururugi, you are weapons free."

"Copy that." The right arm leveled itself against the target, a meter tall steel mannequin. "Firing." Electricity crackled, dancing between the two rods violently, before electromagnetically propelling a piece of steel to a speed of 16,000 meters per second. The ball went straight through the mannequin and embedded itself into the titanium reinforced wall behind it.

Jeremiah whistled appreciatively, walking up to the hole for a closer look. "That's one nasty gun you've managed to get us." He poked his pinky into the hole to measure how deep the bullet had gone. "A few inches on top of the mannequin. Not bad, not bad at all."

The Argyl 04 lowered its arms as the machine powered down. "This is Kururugi. Ashford rail gun test completed."

* * *

Connecting the cities of Saida and Sidi Bel Abbes was a long stretch of asphalt that weaved itself through surprisingly well-vegetated land. There was but one village in the vast expanse, a quaint little place by the name of Youb which had been easily secured by rebels. Not that it was much of a challenge to begin with.

There were 16 regiments that had initially composed the 5th Army's II Corps charged with occupying Britannian controlled Area 17. Ten of these had been stationed along the coast, which was where most of the major cities and populations were located. The other six had the unenviable task of patrolling the expansive land to the south. They had to stretch their forces far wider to maintain order, and were easily sent running during the NAL counterattack. Without their oppressors, the rural folk had eagerly taken up arms and joined the insurgents. It had meant a minimal garrison for the town, levied from the townsfolk themselves.

On the outskirts of Youb stood a single man keeping watch over the horizon vigilantly, the outdated AK-47 slung across his shoulder. A chilling breeze blew past him, and he shivered, being dressed in nothing but his white, linen robe. "Come join me, Samir." His companion called from his seat, letting out a ring of smoke blissfully.

"We should be keeping watch for enemies, Zahir." replied Samir, giving his friend an irate glance.

"Please," Zahir rolled his eyes. "We haven't seen a single Britannian since they ran away last month! Nobody's going to come for us now." He took another puff of smoke, sighing at the feeling of euphoria it brought him. "Take a cigarette or some coffee even," he gestured to the steaming mug on the table enticingly, "it would be pointless for you to freeze while on watch."

Samir looked conflicted for a moment as a sense of duty and the tempting aroma battled it out in his head, before nodding. "I suppose a cup of coffee wouldn't hurt." He walked to the table, dropping his rifle on it before taking a sip from the glass cup. "How's the wife?" He asked conversationally.

Zahir winced at his question, reminded of a recent and painful ordeal. "Very angry," he leaned in a little closer to whisper something, "I think it's that time of the month."

"Ah," Samir sympathetically patted his arm, "that explains the-"

BOOM!

The table between them exploded, sending both men to the ground, choking from the pieces of shrapnel that were jutting out of their bodies. It did not take long for the light in Samir's eyes to pass.

Zahir reached out to his friend helplessly, his eyes wide with horror. He feebly cried out, but could only get a garbled sound out of his mangled throat

"2nd Company, secure the village! Remember our orders!"

And his soul left its mortal coil.

* * *

The Britannian command vehicle, "the Sovereign", was an odd-looking tank. It did not have a main gun that most tanks did and its roof was higher and looked more like a bunker on wheels than anything else. Its main task on the battlefield was to coordinate an armored squadron, and thus housed quite a bit of technology instead of weaponry.

It was one such vehicle that rolled into the central plaza of Youb, which was little more than a large patch of dirt walled in by houses. Lelouch stepped out of the vehicle, and took in the frigid air that washed over him. His eyes swept the plaza with slow, deliberate movements. A crowd had been ushered in by his men, on occasion prodding them with their guns to hurry them up.

"Sir!" Cameron barked, saluting to his CO sharply. "We've gathered all the civilians as ordered."

"Any casualties?" He asked with a tinge of concern.

"No deaths but three injured. Eight rebels killed, twenty two captured."

Lelouch nodded approvingly. "Anything else to report?"

"Well…" Cameron faltered. "sir, we had an incident."

"One of the men disobeyed my explicit orders." He stated, not asked. "Very well, line up the rebels as well as the offender. Prepare a firing squad."

"Sir?" Cameron asked, shocked by the unusual behavior rather than the order itself.

"Were my orders unclear, Lieutenant?" Lelouch raised a questioning brow at him.

"No sir." Cameron answered hastily, still frowning. "Third squad, line up all the prisoners!"

Women screamed in anguish, begging for their husband's lives, while children sobbed quietly. A few of the soldiers waved their guns threateningly in their faces to shut them up, which worked spectacularly well in that regard.

Lelouch drew his pistol and, with barely concealed contempt, marched up to the kneeling captives. The sole Britannian stood out in his disheveled fatigue, his face paling with each step his officer took forward. The rebels watched with morbid curiosity, eager to see if the Britannian would be killed by fellow Britannian.

Lelouch raised the gun to his forehead and placed his finger on the trigger. "The only ones who should kill are those who are prepared to be killed." His words cut through the silence like a knife. Both natives and soldiers gawked, waiting anxiously for the resolution.

The soldier shamefully lowered his head, tears rolling down his eyes as he made peace with his deity. He heard a distinct "click" and prepared for the world around him to fade.

The bullet never came.

Tentatively, and almost too afraid to look, he stole a peek. "It seems my gun has jammed." Lelouch frowned at the gun. In one smooth motion, he spun it around his index finger and grabbed it by the barrel while swinging his arm back – a move which could have been taken for a Wild West film - before slamming the handle of his gun into the man's cheek, knocking him down from the force of impact.

Lelouch turned around to gaze at his audience, soldiers and citizens alike. "The next man who disobeys my orders won't be as lucky." He promised coldly. "As for you _rebels,_" spat Lelouch, "I'll have every last one of you crucified if you even _think _about making trouble. We are here to restore the rule of law, and anyone who tries to test us will find themselves very dead, very soon." Lelouch told the civilians, who were still looking at him in mixed parts of distrust and disbelief.

"Lieutenant, ready the men to move out. Leave a platoon stationed here until they are relieved."

* * *

Nunnally vi Britannia had acutely developed her other senses over the years.

Being stripped of her sight had forced it, reaching a point where she was able to construct a rough map in her mind just by listening and feeling. For example, the barely audible rustling of a skirt and the soft thud of footsteps told her that Sayoko was approximately seven meters away, probably preparing dinner. The rhythmic ticking coming from her 12 gave away the wall clock's presence, which meant that the television was directly beneath it. Between that and herself would likely be a glass table. A gentle push forward resulted in her shins making light contact with the wooden foot. Cautiously sweeping her arm across the table's surface netted her control of the remote, which she held up into the air victoriously.

By this system of extrapolation, she managed to get by quite well without outside help. She pressed on the remote's power button and was rewarded with the sound of the newsman's voice streaming into the room. Satisfied with the results, she made herself comfortable on her wheelchair, and did what she did best – listening.

"_In other news, the war of Area 17 goes well as the II Corps renews its counteroffensive once more. The 2nd Quebec under His Highness, Lelouch vi Britannia, managed to take the city of Saida 18 hours ago, Since then, they have made their way steadily north towards the city of Algiers to relieve the beleaguered defenders. All opposition was easily swept aside including the blockading forces of Algiers, sending rebel elements along the frontlines in a retreat to avoid getting cut off. Capitalizing on this success was Prince Altair nu Britannia, who spearheaded the reclamation of abandoned territories. An estimated 2,700 NAL troops have been captured, surprised by the speed of Britannia's mobilization. _

_"The High Eunuchs of the Chinese Federation also expressed concern for the natives of Africa and have cited the war's damage on international trading with the blockade of the Suez Canal as reasons for a ceasefire. Prime Minister Schneizel el Britannia appeared before the EU Council of Forty with a promise to begin talks and urged them not to become militarily involved as it would only lead to escalation of violence._

_"The EU has yet to give an official statement, though experts believe that armed intervention is only a matter of time. The North African League and Middle Eastern Federation are known affiliated unions that the EU helped to create, alongside the Central African Union and the Asian Alliance. Before Britannia's colonization of the NAL and MEF, all five were undergoing talks of a Mutual Defense P-"_

The television was cut off abruptly. "Sayoko…" Nunnally whined, a flicked of irritation crossing her normally gentle features.

"Nunnally…" Sayoko replied, drawing her name out as well. "It's time for dinner. You can listen more about Master Lelouch's exploits after you eat." Nunnally pouted cutely as the maid pushed her towards the dining table.

The black van outside remained unnoticed.

* * *

**_October 2, 2017 (Z Day + 2), 11:00 PM_**

Colonel Obadiah Ryze was shaking with barely constrained fury and a murderous look on his face, much to the bewilderment of Lelouch and his subordinates. It certainly wasn't the hero's welcome they had expected.

"Do you realize what you've _done?_" Ryze asked, pacing back and forth the room. If he was waiting for a reply, it wasn't apparent. "You've trapped us here, like rats! The NAL has reinforced their encirclement and now, we'll be force to break out due to a lack of supplies! Had it just been my men, we could have lasted another month or so, plenty of time before the next shipment. Now with _two thousand _extra mouths to feed, we'll be lucky if supplies last a week!" He ranted, stopping in front of Lelouch and glaring at the former Brevet Lt. Colonel. The fact that he had a deep rooted contempt for politicians in general did nothing to endear the Britannian Prince to him.

"Sir, Lieutenant vi Britannia was merely following orders!" Haywood protested without permission, an appalling breach of military decorum. "We were uninformed of the-"

"_Haywood!_" Lelouch hissed, cutting him off before he made the situation any worse.

Ryze considered the upstart officer, taking a special interest in the stitched name cloth above his left breast pocket. "Did you learn nothing in the academy, Lieutenant?" He asked rhetorically. "Your father may be a general, but that doesn't excuse your behavior!" He shifted his glance towards Lelouch once more.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself, _Lieutenant vi Britannia?_"

Biting back a retort, Lelouch shook his head. "No sir." He had a feeling it wouldn't help his cause anyways.

"Good, because it is apparent to me you are not fit for command. What the MAM saw in you I'll never know." He paused to consider what punishment he'd hand out. "1st Company is hereby reassigned to Lieutenant Wood. You," he jabbed Lelouch's chest hard, "will serve as part of his staff. Do try to learn something while you're there."

The berate ended there with Lelouch's silent acceptance of the demotion.

"Lieutenant Wood, Lieutenant Cameron," the two snapped to attention, standing a little straighter than before, "at 1200 tomorrow, your men will launch a coordinated attack to the west with the 2nd Squadron to assist. Your objective will be the artillery emplacements that have been causing us no end of problems. Perhaps this will teach you men what true war is about."

Minutes later as they walked outside of the command tent, Wood was the first to speak, breaking the uncomfortable awkwardness with Lelouch at their sudden reversal of roles. "You didn't do anything wrong, you know. The Colonel's ire was uncalled for."

It did nothing to wipe the frown off of his friend's face. "Talk like that will earn you a visit from the MPs."

"Doesn't mean it's untrue." Wood pressed, as they stopped in front of their temporary barracks. "You delivered the impossible. You got us here in two days; half the time you promised. The men won't forget that. I may be in command, but you're the power behind the throne…so to speak." He acknowledged humbly, stepping aside deferentially to let Lelouch pass through first.

Lelouch nodded gratefully, entering through the door. Activity in the room was at a standstill as the men snapped to attention. "We have work to do. The enemy's not about to hand over those weapons to us."

"I'll gather the sergeants." Wood volunteered, stepping in line behind him.

* * *

"Enemy formation looks tight." Wood noted as he surveyed their defenses through his binoculars. "Those howitzers might be antiques, but they still pack quite a punch."

"Why didn't the Colonel just order a counter attack with our own artillery?" Victor Wolfe, newly promoted sergeant of 1st Company's 1st Platoon, asked curiously. "The Starfalls would be more than a match for them."

"A Starfall can't hit them as this range." It was Lelouch who answered. He glanced at his wristwatch. "Commencing operations in five."

"I better get back to the men then." Wolfe said, wiping away a trail of sweat caused by the intense midday heat. "Unlike you lot, I'll actually be fighting on the ground."

"Privilege of command, Victor." Wood answered, giving him a cheeky grin.

"Which means we'll be acting as bait for their guns in the tanks," Lelouch added, moving towards the parked Sovereign command tank nearby.

Wood snorted. "You have it easy in the Sovereign. I'll actually be in one of the Darwins leading the charge." The Darwin was the Britannian main battle tank model, named after the famed scientist and scapegoat for the Empire's expansionist policy – Charles Darwin.

"Given the NAL's propensity towards targeting enemy commanders, I think I'll actually be in the most danger." Lelouch shot back, not at all comforted by the giant target placed on his back by simply stepping into the vehicle.

The door of the bunker-on-treads closed and the engine revved to life.

"All units, forward!"

And like the surging tide, the men marched forward.

* * *

_"After being on the move for the past two days with little rest, we had arrived at Algiers. I could scarcely believe it myself, thinking it was some sort of mirage, despite the lack of sun in the sky, 'til we passed by the city gates. Corporal Smith brushed his hands pass the cement and assured us that it was no illusion. Just to be sure I wasn't dreaming, I asked him to pinch my arm. _

_Whatever drowsiness I felt disappeared after that._

_It was only later that we wondered why the NAL let us in without a fight. We first thought that news of our blitz had scared them off; confident as we were of our battle prowess from the few skirmishes we had fought so far. The Black Prince – the nickname we had given Prince Lelouch given his inclination towards night combat – had always employed overwhelming force and precision in our assaults, meant to shock the enemy into submission. In his hands, we were like a surgeon's scalpel._

_The breakout, though, was different in more ways than one. _

_First, the Colonel had been displeased with His Highness for entering the city and had him demoted to Lieutenant Wood's staff. By a technicality, he was stripped of command over 1st Company. _

_In actuality? Nothing could be farther from the truth. We were the Black Prince's men, through and through. Even the Lieutenant acknowledged that and it was a good thing that he did. Otherwise, mutiny might have been a very real danger._

_Second, we no longer had overwhelming force. Two rifle companies and a tank squadron was nothing to laugh at, but the force we'd be facing would be the largest so far. _

_Third, the NAL was well prepared for us. They had spent the previous weeks fortifying their lines, expecting us to try and breach the encirclement at any moment. Trenches marked their territory cleanly, surrounding the city like a moat; HMG nests and gun emplacements lined the perimeter like bastions of a castle. The Bamides, unwieldy pseudo-Knightmares imported from the MEF, stood firm and imposing, like towers. Between us and them was a no man's land 400 meters wide and riddled with craters as both sides pounded the land with all manners of weapons to beat back the occasional trespasser. It was the very definition of overkill._

_Sergeant O'Connor likened our attack to the massed infantry charges of World War 1. That was not a comforting thought. _

_In some ways, we infantry were lucky. The Darwins had quickly become the unenviable focus of the enemy guns. Our situation went to shit very quickly. The tanks were unable to punch a hole through the defenses, bogged down by the firefight that ensued. Our men were pinned down by the HMGs, taking cover wherever they could, behind tanks, sandbags and ditches. Things were looking bleak, and the men were wavering, on the verge of total collapse. _

_Suddenly, a lone tank lunged forward, breaking rank. It was not just any tank. Every man in the company had become acquainted with this one in particular. It was a Sovereign class command vehicle, the Black Prince's personal carrier; leading the charge like the knights of old. _

_His indifference towards the chaos was positively inspiring._

_The twin .30 cal K4-HMGs mounted on top of it unleashed a storm of death upon our foes as the Sovereign's treads rolled over the trenches, breaking through the first line. Taking heart, we threw ourselves into the breach once more._

_ 'A soldier must be willing to lay down his life for his country and his brothers!' Those were the Black Prince's words. If he was willing to live by them, why shouldn't we as well? _

_The tanks were the first to reach the Black Prince, forming up around him and roaring defiantly at any man foolish enough to come close. _

_'The trenches! Get to the trenches!' Corporal Smith yelled before jumping in. I was not long behind with rifle in hand. We took the Algerians by surprise, gunning them down before they could kill anymore of our comrades. All along the front, our lads were jumping into the fray, heedless of the danger. It didn't take long for us to send the enemy running. _

_The Sovereign pushed forward again, testing our resolve. It proved to be a costly move. _

_Amidst the battle, rockets began to streak into our lines sending tanks aflame one after the other. With abject horror, we watched, utterly helpless, as a single RPG slammed into the Sovereign, stopping it with a bounce though not quite causing it to explode. The men fell completely silent, realizing what had just transpired. _

_The Black Prince was dead. _

_We would mourn for his death later. Right then and there, only a single thought dominated our minds, completely unifying the men…vengeance. We would have it, even if the last of us should fall to the enemy to do so. _

_A low, guttural sound emerged from our side. Men stampeded forward. Even the faintest among us became lions that day. Not one step back. _

_What began as a mission to take the enemy's cannons became a full scale offensive. We routed them so utterly, so devastatingly that we pushed them back a total of eleven kilometers, whereupon they scattered to the four winds. _

_Victory had never tasted so bitter to us. We had won, yet, we had lost."_

_-excerpt from: BBC Documentary - In Service of the Prince; Private James Wickham, 1st Company, 501st Regiment; "The Black Knights."_

_"An Armored Regiment at full strength is composed of: _

_74 Darwin Main Battle Tanks_  
_10 Scourer Light Tanks_  
_8 Starfall Mobile Artillery_  
_6 Porcupine APCs_  
_5 Sovereign Mobile Command Vehicles_  
_5 Nightingale Recovery Vehicles_  
_4 Field Ambulances."_

_-excerpt from: Britannian Army Training, 19th ed._

**AN: Dun dun dun! Cliff hanger. Evil laugh. **


	5. Control the Center

**AN: Chapter 5…I suspect there will be 2 to 3 more chapters until I end the second arc of the story and return to Japan once more.**

**Disclaimer: Code Geass. Not mine. Comprende, amigo?**

**Chapter 5: Control the Center**

_"Breaking News: Eleventh Prince dead?_

_October 4, 2013._

_After 4 hours of fighting, elements of the 2nd Quebec Regiment under the command of His Highness, Lieutenant Lelouch vi Britannia broke through the western segment of the encirclement around Algiers. The victory is a pyrrhic one though, as the 11th Prince led the charge against the enemy line. Unfortunately, reports indicate that the Prince's personal carrier was struck by an RPG, killing two and critically wounding four others, including the Prince himself. It is unknown at this point what the status of the Prince is, but there have been no further sightings of him on the field. It is suspected that the Prince is in critical condition. Colonel Obadiah Ryze, the Commanding Officer of the Regiment, was unavailable for comment._

_His bravery has allowed the 2nd Quebec to push the enemy as far as 11 kilometers within the first day. Analysts say that this momentum will likely be maintained by subsequent pushes against enemy positions, likely with the goal of creating a perimeter as far out as Chlef to trap the retreating rebels with Colonel Altair nu Britannia's 16th Imperial Regiment._

_So far, NAL casualties from this and previous engagements are estimated around 500 and a further 790 have surrendered. The 2nd Quebec has also destroyed or captured 16 Knightmares, 31 armored fighting vehicles and 68 artillery pieces. One of our informants report that the 2nd Quebec's casualties are at 203 killed and 308 injured. _

_This is Julie Brunswick, reporting from somewhere in North Africa." _

* * *

**_October 4, 2017 (Z Day + 4)  
Jerusalem, Israel, Middle Eastern Federation_**

The name of Cornelia li Britannia was forever memorialized on the Fourth of October in the year of 2017, Ascension Throne Britannia. It was the day the world acknowledged, without a doubt, that she deserved her twin monikers; the "Witch of Britannia" to her enemies and the "Goddess of Victory" to her men.

It was the day the Holy City fell.

With what could only be described as reckless disregard and savage fury, she attacked the ancient walls of Jerusalem; walls which had never fallen beforehand...at least in modern times. It was not a popular move with High Command, citing the probability of unacceptably high casualties.

Jerusalem was Holy, not just to the predominant majority of Muslims, but also to the Israelites that thrived in the Islamic controlled Arabian Peninsula. If there was anything that could unite the two groups even further than they already were, it was the imminent danger to Jerusalem in the form of Britannia's Army.

Early into the war, it had been recognized that Jerusalem would be an important target, not just for its strategic value but also for the morale shattering backwash its fall would have on the MEF. To that effect, the I, II and III Corps had surrounded the city from three sides while elements of the 5th Army completed the encirclement. Meanwhile, I Corp of the 5th Army, under the command of Lieutenant General Bryan A. Haywood, was tasked with keeping MEF reinforcements at bay.

It was, altogether, a momentous undertaking that required a massive mobilization of manpower, material and might.

Close associates of the esteemed Field Marshall would later note, much to the people's disbelief, that the primary catalyst for the attack was Cornelia's foul temper.

"Highness, perhaps it would be wiser for us to wait the enemy out." said General Andreas Darlton over the KMF communications interface, the diagonal scar running through his face, if at all possible, making him sound grimmer. "This could cost us dearly later on."

The Princess's bespectacled Knight of Honor, Gilbert Guilford was of the same mind, but for entirely different reasons. "Princess, Darlton is correct. You will be a target that the enemy will hunt down relentlessly. The war would be lost if you shall fall now." He urged while a pained expression crossed over his normally calm façade.

Cornelia was not about to reconsider, however. Frankly put, she had to deal with _far _too much shit in her own personal life to give a damn about personal safety. "We seize the city today!" With a growl that could be mistaken for a tiger's, she rushed forward in her customized Gloucester without paying them any further heed. They had no choice, of course, but to follow.

"All units, attack!" Darlton ordered, massaging the bridge of his nose in an attempt to control the signs of what would be a massive headache. Five voices answered in affirmation, the famed "Glaston Knights". They were Cornelia's personal militia, an order of highly trained Knightmare pilots loyal to herself and their adopted father, the General himself.

A barrage of shells and mortar bathed the city's perimeter in thunder, causing more than a few holes to show. A few Knightmares floated out in challenge, hoping to buy time for their comrades against the close combat Gloucesters, while the conventional troops were routed by indirect fire.

"Protect the Princess!" Guilford cried out on the other end of the city, accelerating his own Knightmare to match Cornelia's, the rest of the Royal Guard not far behind.

Cornelia's Gloucester abruptly changed directions - once, twice then thrice – zigzagging across the sand with the KMF's Golden Rule firmly in mind. "Never move in a straight line." A trail of smoke blurred past her and moments later, sand showered the spot where she had once been. To her left, an unfortunate Sutherland had stopped moving to return fire, and was promptly dispatched of in a brilliant explosion, courtesy of the MEF's Bamides.

"Shoddy, oversized imitation Knightmares!" Darlton spat out, skewering one which had strayed too far from its brethren through the chest. In a move that seemed in direct contradiction of the laws of physics, he lifted the 11 meter tall machine, almost thrice the height of his own, into the air, before slamming it back down to the ground with the aid of gravity. The limbless machine gave out a hiss as Darlton removed his bloodied lance from it, before breaking apart violently seconds later and incinerating the corpses within.

Guilford raised his arm backwards, before sending his lance streaking into the air like a javelin. Wasting no time, he charged forward after it, as if playing catch with himself. "Formidable foes, nonetheless. These things have proved themselves to be more than a match for our own forces, despite their technological inferiority." commented the Knight with a tone of grudging respect. He sped past the destroyed remains of one such machine, which had seconds before been aiming at Her Highness; deftly retrieving his lance from its chest despite never slowing down.

"These things could butcher us on the field. But here, in the city?" Darlton chuckled, as he got past the walls, spearheading his detachment's advance. "They're sitting ducks!"

That was a fact nobody would contest. Built with tripod for legs to increase stability and twelve missiles docked atop its elevated shoulders, the Bamide was basically a walking artillery platform. A single 255 mm cannon jutted out of its belly, capable of sending rounds 18 kilometers away without sacrificing its ability to kill on impact. Two machine guns represented its only defense mechanism once things got up close and personal, a 7.62mm designed to hit light vehicles and a .30 cal to provide anti-personnel fire. Heavily armored, it could brush off tank fire with ease, while sand panels, the MEF's newly designed hover technology were used in place of landspinners for greater mobility in the sand. It was designed for combat in the Arabian Desert where the line of sight could be notoriously far, but not to fight a Gloucester head on.

"Colonel Yates," Darlton said, opening up a line to his subordinate. "we are inside the city. Proceed to phase two of the operation."

"Copy that, General." The officer in charge of artillery said. "Cannons will begin rolling in after that path's clear."

The monitor split into six different screens as Darlton observed the situation. It was up to him to issue orders while the Princess was preoccupied with her…stress relief. It was an incredibly quick way to learn how to multitask under pressure. The threat of death was an excellent motivator. "Glaston Knights, hold position until the rest of our men catch up. Proceed to prearranged missions afterwards."

Meanwhile, Cornelia continued on her rampage across the city, blitzing into the very heart of it while her guards struggled to keep up. Already two of their number had been disabled, and one had been unable to pull his ejection lever before a Bamide round ushered him to the afterlife.

"DAMN IT EUPHIE!" cursed Cornelia in a very unladylike manner, for reasons beyond her associates, her eyes blurring slightly from the sorrowful tears that threatened to spill out. "Damn it Lelouch!"

It sounded like she was grieving to Guilford. Suffice to say, charging into the midst of battle without care for danger was a strange way to mourn, but could be interpreted as a bout of suicidal tendencies.

Her Knightmare skidded to a halt when a considerable force barricaded her path. The momentary pause allowed her retinue to rendezvous with their leader.

"We must be nearing the Church of the Holy Sepulcher." Guilford noted as his factspheres zeroed in on the two unmistakable grey domes breaking the skyline. "Temple Mount will be difficult for us to take alone Princess." The other guards, though remained silent, agreed with their captain.

"How long before our men get here?" Cornelia asked irritably, considering those in her path as pests more than anything else. Her hands twitched involuntarily towards the controls.

"At least ten minutes." The purple frame shot forward like a bullet once more, impatiently seeking battle as if driven by a lust for blood. "P-princess! P-pl-please!" Guilford stuttered, a look of increasing desperation clouding his features as he followed dutifully.

"Ten minutes is too long!" Cornelia snarled, ignoring the nuisances known as small arms fire bouncing off her armor. "We must end this now!" She unlatched the assault rifle strapped to her back, and blindly fired into the enemy, channeling grief and sorrow into single-minded rage. Condensed as they were, aiming was unnecessary.

The party pressed on, leaving behind a half dozen smoldering armored vehicles and more than triple that in corpses.

Within ten minutes, the Bamides assigned to the defense of Temple Mount were eliminated. The first of the Starfall artillery rolled in eight minutes afterwards, at which point the Royal wasted no time reentering the fray, much to Guilford's continued dismay. Darlton, on the other hand, wondered what news she had received that could have propelled her on this suicidal warpath. In any case, the city was taken with ease after the fall of Temple Mount. With the artillery there safe from return fire, as the MEF wouldn't dare desecrate their holy site, they were able to advance into the city without much trouble. Enemy concentrations were pummeled and scattered, the remnants surrounded by the overwhelmingly superior Britannian army.

Cornelia's steam finally "ran out" after an hour of continuous combat. Darlton secretly suspected that her energy filler had merely reached critical levels, forcing her to pull back from the front or risk the humiliation of having to be rescued.

"Darlton, report." Cornelia's face blinked into existence on the veteran's screen, a perpetual scowl plastered on it, it seemed.

"The Knesset has been surrounded, Princess." said Darlton with a wide grin. "Their surrender will mean an end to organized resistance."

Cornelia didn't seem entirely pleased with the news. "What of Mount Zion and Mount Olive?"

"Unfortunately, it has yet to be taken."

"Those remain to be the last of the seven mountains that we must capture. It will prove to be a continuous pain in the ass for us otherwise."

"We don't have the men to spare, Highness." Darlton said hesitantly. "We've suffered significant losses, and most of our remaining units are preoccupied in quelling dissidents and the remaining pockets of resistance."

Cornelia frowned. "How badly were our losses?"

"An estimated 9,000 men are KIA. Another sixteen suffering from injuries." Darlton answered morosely, lips set in a grim line. "We've lost enough frames to form a brigade and a couple hundred tanks based on initial reports."

"Rally as many Knights as you can spare and tell them to meet me at point J-8." She ordered sternly.

"As you wish, Princess Cornelia." Darlton replied perfunctorily.

He could count on one hand how many times Cornelia had acted like this in all his years with her. This was a whole different level of anger.

She was downright pissed.

"Hell hath no fury like Cornelia scorned." muttered Darlton, his stomach turning into a cold pit. In a rare moment of empathy, the grizzled general actually felt a twinge of pity for the soon-to-be butchered troops of the MEF, and shivered involuntarily as he thought of what the Princess might do to them.

On the upside, at least casualties would be lower than expected.

* * *

**_October 3, 2017 (1 day prior)  
Tokyo Airport, Tokyo Settlement, Area 11_**

"Presenting, Her Highness, Euphemia li Britannia, 3rd Princess of the Holy Britannian Empire, 6th in line to the Imperial Throne and the Countess of Essex!"

The soldiers lining the path knelt deferentially in greeting as the princess, barely fifteen herself, treaded on the soft carpet with an awkward gait. Flashes of light threatened to blind her as paparazzi and newsmen milled about to take shots of the latest celebrity to grace them.

The fur walkway ended at the feet of her brother, Clovis la Britannia, who welcomed her with arms wide open and a genuine, warm smile. His personal sentries, in contrast, observed the proceedings icily behind tinted shades and in their expensive, hand stitched Italian suits.

"It has been far too long, Euphie!" Clovis exclaimed, giving her an affectionate embrace, before taking a hold of her by the shoulders. He eyed her, up and down, before coming to a conclusion. "You've grown taller."

"Just a tad bit." She replied, holding up a pinch of air. Euphemia detached herself from her brother's grip and curtseyed though nearly stumbled as she did so. "I am here by the Emperor's command, Viceroy."

Clovis smirked at her unusually formal display and decided to play along. "It is a pleasure to have you with us, Sub-Viceroy." Ever the gentleman, he offered his arm to the lady.

Euphie nodded graciously, accepting the offer and let herself be led towards the awaiting limousine. "How are things here in Area 11?"

"Well enough I suppose." Clovis answered with an offhanded shrug. "Not much going on since Lelouch left." His eyes softened. "How is he by the way?"

"I've heard of nothing from him of late. The lack of news is…frustrating." huffed the Princess.

"He's not…" Clovis trailed off, refusing to finish his sentence.

Euphie shook her head. "Lelouch isn't _that _easy to beat. He survived on his own for years. Now, he has an entire regiment of men with him."

Clovis snorted. "It would be rather ironic though."

"We can do nothing but pray and hope, brother. I believe Lelouch will find a way back to us." Euphie stated with conviction. "Even brother Schneizel agrees."

"Well, if the esteemed Lord High Chancellor agrees, than it must be true." Clovis muttered, rolling his eyes.

Euphemia frowned disapprovingly. "Must you keep up your attitude with him?"

"Old habits die hard." answered Clovis with a cheeky grin. "How's sister? I'm surprised she let you off on your own. That girl acts as if she's your mother."

A faint blush colored her cheeks a few shades darker than her pink hair. "She certainly wasn't pleased with the news, but father's word was final. Besides, can you blame her for caring? The news about Lelouch hit her pretty hard as it is. To have two of her own family sent to an Area notorious for its insubordinate populace is pushing the limits."

"Area 11 is way safer than Area 17." Clovis answered defensively, voice rising slightly. "We're facing domestic terrorism, not full scale civil war backed by the European Union."

"But the Chinese are just across the sea, aren't they?"

Clovis smiled, ushering in his sister into the awaiting car after their _very_ slow march.

"Looks like we have our work cut out for us then, Sub-Viceroy."

* * *

**_October 8, 2017 (Z Day + 8)  
Chlef (approximately 50 kilometers west of Algiers), Area 17_**

"This is Taskforce Alpha to HQ, requesting armor support pronto!" Wood screamed into his radio. A stray mortar shells hit a few meters away, showering the miserable boy in warm sand.

"Alpha, this is HQ. 1st Squadron was ambushed along the way. You'll have to hold out for a while longer." was the reply.

He let the radio drop into the sand uselessly. "Looks like we're on our own for now."

Beside him, Haywood cussed loudly. "How are we supposed to fight like this? We've barely got any tanks with us for this op! We can't get anywhere near those Bamides."

To his other side was Cameron, firing randomly into the enemy line. "We could use mortars to hit the enemy." He suggested meekly.

Wood was already shaking his head, dismissing the idea. "Those things don't have the range to hit them. They'd be torn to shreds before they could deploy, even with covering fire."

"Who knew 3 Bamides and a couple dozen rebels could cause us so much trouble." muttered Haywood.

"We expanded too fast. We must be holding at least 5,000 kilometers worth of are after Bravo took Medea!" Wood grumbled.

"It's all part of the Colonel's plan, isn't it?" asked Cameron. "Take the three cities, hold our ground and wait for the other Regiments to get to us."

"A sound plan in theory, but he's forgetting we're not exactly experienced enough to handle this!" snapped Haywood.

"Lelouch could have done it." Wood pointed out.

"Lelouch isn't with us!"

"If you're quite done bickering."

The three of them looked around, sharing befuddled looks, before realizing that the voice had come from the discarded radio. "Who is this?"

"Doesn't matter. Do you want to win or not?" The voice rasped, sounding hoarse.

"If Mohammed will not go to the mountain, the mountain must come to Mohammed." the device crackled, much to the confusion of the three officers. As if sensing their incomprehension, the voice explained further. "You have to set up the mortars first, and then draw the Bamides into their range. Bait them in, then give 'em hell."

"That might just work." mulled Wood. "Cameron, tell Victor to pull back his platoon. Haywood, get the support company in place to cover their retreat." The two pulled out their own radios in response and began relaying the orders.

A few minutes passed in silence as the three waited with bated breath for the results.

"It…it's working, sir! Enemy frames are in range. Permission to fire?" The radio hissed.

Wood nodded to Cameron, and he brought the radio to his lips. "You are weapons free."

The sound of distant explosions greeted them and, moments later, three trails of smoke rose over the horizon.

"Enemy frames have been eliminated. Enemy infantry are falling back on all sectors!"

"Do not pursue. Our orders were to secure the city." Haywood responded immediately.

Wood tried to hail the voice, but the only response that met him was static.

He had a good idea who it was though.

* * *

**_October 10, 2017  
Location Classified _**

Four masked figures crept along the edge of the facility quietly, submachine guns in hand and ready to rip. The lead figure, a lean man by the shape of his body, held a hand up. The other three stopped in response, shoulders tensed as they leveled their SMGs at the suspiciously open door. Moving cautiously, they formed a semicircle around the door. The lean man went in first, prodding the door further open with the tip of his gun, body tensing as he prepared to fire if necessary.

The door swung open to reveal four prone bodies, bullets lodged firmly between their eyes for a quick and clean death. It seemed to be the work of an expert marksman. The man swept the room with his eyes, his gun following, while his teammates entered.

"Someone was here first." whispered a second man to the first, shuffling his feet anxiously.

A third man beside him rolled his eyes. "No shit, Tamaki." He replied, though the slight tremble in his hands betrayed his nerves.

Bang!

The three spun on instinct, facing the door that had shut behind them. They were greeted with the sight of their youngest member struggling against a Chinese man in a Britannian uniform, sporting an odd looking violet visor, with one arm around her neck the other holding a pistol casually to her head. He gave them a toothy grin, and released his hostage. "I come in peace."

Tamaki, impulsive as always, was the first to speak. "Who the hell are you?" He demanded angrily.

The Chinese man paused to consider his words, before smirking as if to say that he knew something they didn't. "I am an ally, Shinichiro Tamaki. I share your goals in this mission."

There was a sound of four SMGs cocking. The stranger held his hands up in surrender, letting his pistol his the floor with a clang. "No need to get violent now." He said, chuckling lightly. "Like I said, I mean you no harm."

"Answer our question! Who are you?" The lead man said, taking a step forward.

"Who I am isn't important." He answered without answering. "Toru Yoshida, Kent Sugiyama and Kallen Kozuki…or should I say Kallen Stadtfeld?" Just to further his message, he gestured to each in turn, showing just how much he knew. "I've had my eye on the four of you since you stepped foot on the base grounds. It's impressive that you've managed to make it this far without a plan, but I'm afraid that won't get you much farther."

"Explain." Sugiyama growled.

The foreigner smirked gleefully, pocketing his hands and leaning against the wall in a very informal pose. "To get to…the poison gas requires that you take a special elevator, located exactly twenty three meters past the left door. That will take you to an underground bunker with several checkpoints and even heavier security. With neither a plan of action, a map of the facility or knowledge of the security codes, how are you going to move forward?"

Kallen frowned. "And I suppose you do?"

"But of course." He began to stride forward, shoulders squared and head high, but not before recovering his pistol. "You can't really trust me, but you'll have to if you want to get out alive with the package."

"You a Federation agent or something?" Tamaki asked.

The Chinese man grabbed one of the dead guards by the collar, before dragging it along with him. "In a manner of speaking. Hurry now and change into these uniforms."

"I don't trust this guy." Kallen murmured to Sugiyama, grimacing distastefully as she stripped a body of its grabs.

"We'll have to play along for now." replied the blue haired freedom fighter. "He looks like he knows what he's doing."

"That's what scares me."

Once they finished dressing, they hid the bodies in a nondescript room courtesy of their mysterious ally, before proceeding to the elevator like he said. The four shuffled uncertainly behind the agent, hesitating to follow the unknown element. "Stand at attention, boys and girl." He instructed, straightening up himself. "You've got to sell yourselves here."

The elevator doors opened.

The agent led them through the corridors with practiced ease, giving away no clues that it was his first time to step foot in this part of the base. Once in a while, he would pause to chat with a soldier, seemingly familiar with the lot of them.

Each passing second made Kallen even more worried. How was the man able to pull this off…unless he was working with Britannia? It was a possibility, though remained highly improbable.

What had their group done, after all, to warrant such lengths from Britannia? They certainly didn't need to pull off such an elaborate deception, if it was one, in order to be rid of them. Compared to other groups, such as the Japanese Liberation Front, the Yamato Alliance or even the Blood of the Samurai, their…team was nothing. They didn't even have a freaking name yet!

At last, they reached their stop in front of a large titanium sliding door. The two guards standing at attention raised their palms to warn them from coming closer. "Sorry Sergeant, nobody's allowed in today. Dr. Harrison's orders." One of the guards offered a sheepish grin, his tone vaguely apologetic.

The "sergeant" nodded understandingly. "Not a problem, private. We'll just be-"

Faster than anyone anticipated, he had raised his pistol and fired twice, resulting in two dead guards. The man blew on his silenced gun theatrically in what was his imitation of a sheriff.

"Align one of their eyes with the scanner." He ordered, punching in a 10-digit code into the keypad. Sugiyama and Tamaki stepped forward, hauling up the closer guard. Kallen watched with some curiosity as the biometric scanner produced a horizontal laser.

The agent took the time to replace his pistol for one of the guard's more appropriate rifles.

Moments later, the door emitted two soft clicks, indicating it had been unlocked, before sliding open automatically. He wasted no time, stepping into the room with index finger clasped tightly around the trigger. Yoshida was not long behind, unleashing his own armament on the hapless victims inside. The two methodically emptied their clips, before moving in further down the room.

Kallen was the next one to enter, while Tamaki and Sugiyama stood vigil over the door. The scene inside was…disturbing, to say the least.

The former occupants of the room had chained a green haired woman to an operating table. It looked as if they were conducting human experiments. Kallen walked over to the naked woman and felt for her pulse.

She was still alive, amazingly enough.

"What the hell is this? This isn't the bomb!" Yoshida grabbed their ally by the collar and roughly shoved him up against the wall. "Did you drag us all the way here to rescue your girlfriend?"

The agent's eyes flickered with mild irritation as he kicked his subordinate in...well, somewhere no man should ever be kicked. The results were undeniably effective though, as Yoshida whimpered on the floor, cupping his nether regions protectively.

Despite the situation, it elicited a chuckle from Kallen. Yoshida could not bring himself to glare at his "friend," distracted as he was by the pain…down there.

"There was never any poison gas in that container. It was a hoax by the Britannian army." The man explained, walking towards one of the drawers and withdrawing a syringe. "_She _was always the objective here, whether you knew it or not." He punctured her arm with the needle and cut loose the chains holding her down. The iron chains clattered against the polished floor.

Her eyes opened to reveal two glowing orbs. It was the most vibrant shade of yellow Kallen had ever seen, mesmerizing in every sense of the word. It was neither a bright yellow, like the sun's golden rays, nor was it yellow like a cat's eyes. It was a deeper of a deeper hue altogether…more sophisticated.

Amber perhaps?

The agent's expression could only be described as one of sheer bliss. He looked like a drug addict getting his daily fix as he drank in the sight before him greedily. An insane smile replaced his easy going one, and Kallen wondered what the history between the two of them was.

"C.C.!" cried out the agent ecstatically, stepping forward with arms raised to envelop her.

C.C. frowned jadedly, looking incredibly ungrateful for someone who had just been rescued. Kallen wondered if they were lovers who had left on bad terms.

C.C regarded him impassively, letting herself be hugged. Then she spoke, with a voice that was more weary than pleased.

"Hello…Mao."

* * *

**_October 11, 2017 (Z Day + 11)_**

Lelouch stood at attention inside the Monarch 4 Command Landcruiser. He had been summoned from his comfortable bed at the makeshift hospital with the attractive Red Cross caretakers by his beloved commander, likely for yet another reprimand. It seemed the man hated him with a passion for simply being a Prince. What's more, he didn't bother to hide it. Either the man was extremely brave or extremely suicidal.

Probably both.

Colonel Ryze entered the room in his dusty combat fatigues, indicating he had recently been on the field, directing some operation or another. Lelouch stiffened in anticipation of the coming rebuke. He briefly wondered if he should have feigned feeling light headed instead of bothering to get up. He'd have gotten to stay with the cute blonde taking care of him. She was really starting to open up to him too.

"How are you feeling, Lieutenant vi Britannia?" began Ryze conversationally, circling around him in a predatory fashion. It reminded Lelouch of a tiger about to pounce on its food.

"Well enough, sir." Lelouch replied rigidly, steeling himself for what was to come.

Ryze paused in front of him. "Do you realize what your actions last week have caused?" He looked him in the eye, trying to read his thoughts.

Lelouch maintained his composure, but was uncertain how to respond. His men had succeeded in breaking past the blockade, and based on the latest gossip, courtesy of Andrea, his talkative nurse, they'd pushed out by at _least _40 kilometers. With anyone else, that would've been a good thing.

_"You're not just anybody anymore, Lelouch." _

Cornelia's last words to him echoed in his head. Yes…he was a Prince now. Putting himself in unnecessary danger, normally a soldier's virtue, was a royal's vice. It was one of the things Cornelia was often criticized for. A Prince's place was at the helm, not the front.

Ryze was someone who detested the bureaucracy, of which the Imperial Family was head of. A political perspective would likely set the man off, so Lelouch chose to play it safe and stick with military facts for now.

"Sir, I succeeded in breaking the blockade with minimal casualties, sir. Beyond that, I suspect that it allowed us to gain momentum against the NAL, letting us push them even further back, sir."

"You compromised your own safety." Ryze said pointedly.

"A soldier must be willing to lay down his life for his country and his brothers." Lelouch answered, inwardly noting the stark resemblance his current situation had with that during Basic. "Charging forward was the only way the mission would have succeeded. It was a calculated risk, sir."

"A risk that's brought me no end of headaches," noted Ryze wryly. Lelouch tilted his head, face scrunched in confusion. "You haven't been keeping up with the news." He stated, not asked. "A reporter did a piece on you, implying that you were dead. To make matters worse, NAL has been jamming our communications, which we've only stopped a few hours ago. Suffice to say, High Command was baying for blood until I explained that you were still among us. I've had numerous calls since then from all manner of people, the Field Marshal being one of them."

Lelouch winced, giving his CO an apologetic look. He knew firsthand how rabid Cornelia could be when it came to protecting family. "I hope the experience wasn't too traumatic for you, sir."

"Nothing I couldn't handle. It was, at the very least, an interesting experience." Ryze, grinning widely, leaned forward to whisper a secret. "Who knew the Field Marshal had such an.…extensive vocabulary?"

"However, I've also received an interesting report from Lt. Wood. An 'unidentified' voice gave them tactical advice on how to proceed; advice which allowed them to secure Chlef with minimal casualties." The colonel peered into him, searching for the truth. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

Lelouch had the decency to look abashed. "That was me, sir. I heard that the men had hit a stumbling block. I wasn't about to let them throw away more lives than necessary." The floor pattern suddenly seemed very interesting to the wayward Prince.

"If you had done it for any other reason, I would have your ass in front of a court martial for going against the chain of command." Ryze threatened sternly. "Make no mistake, however. If you so much as think of going behind my back again, I will have you shipped back to Pendragon before you can say 'daddy.' Am I clear?"

"Sir, yes sir."

"Are you enough to return to the field?"

"Sir, yes sir!" Lelouch replied again, noticeably more enthused.

"Good, because you're needed, Lieutenant." Ryze admitted in a display of uncharacteristic contrition.

It took all his discipline to keep his mouth from dropping in shock. "Sir?" asked Lelouch uncertainly.

"I was wrong about you. Despite your initial failing to establish communications with me_ before _entering Algiers, it was not entirely right of me to say what I did." apologized the colonel. "You risked your life out there for your men and that took some serious balls for you to do. I can…respect that. I took the liberty of skimming through your records. Fairly impressive performance in the academy, Lieutenant. A little more experience on the field and we'll make a general out of you yet." He eyed him up and down appraisingly, no doubt estimating how much time his newfound goal would require.

Ryze nodded, satisfied. "For your assignment, I am placing you in charge of Taskforce Alpha. I have a feeling your skills will be put to the best use there." He informed him. "I've also received a surprising call from Command. Your new toys will be arriving soon enough. I suppose the upcoming fight for Chlef will be a time as good as any to break them in."

Lelouch smirked mischievously. "Thank you, sir!"

"I must admit, I find myself intrigued by your frames. Based on the schematics, they seem to be focused on long range support?"

"That's partially right, sir. The Argyl prototype was designed to provide precision fire support. It was built to go toe to toe with any frame, and come out on top of any long range engagement." Lelouch explained, puffing his chest out proudly as if boasting of his child.

"It'll get just that chance at Chlef then." Ryze said, crossing his arms. "Most of our Knightmare assets are required here, in Algiers, or to the south in Medea so you'll certainly be outnumbered. You're dismissed, Lieutenant." Ryze said. He turned on his heel with a click. "Oh, and try not to get killed out there. I've got enough problems on my plate without having to plan your funeral as well."

Lelouch couldn't help but smile. "I'll do my best, sir."

It was time to get back to work.

* * *

**_Viceroy's Palace, Tokyo Settlement, Area 11_**

"Let me get this straight," said Clovis, the steel in his voice caused the men standing at attention to flinch, "you're telling me that a bunch of ragtag terrorists managed to break into one of my most highly guarded facilities, steal one of our top secret weapons, massacre the personnel involved and walk out _scot free?_"

"Y-your-"

"Shut up Bartley." Clovis seethed, glaring derisively at his so called military advisor. He toyed with the idea of throwing the obese man into the dungeons. That might teach the man something about military readiness. "I am very seriously considering having you shot right now." He informed him plainly, the level tone that he used only reinforcing Bartley's belief that he would carry through with it.

A twitch in Soresi's lip diverted his attention.

"And you, Major Soresi, what do you have to say for yourself? That installation was in your district, was it not?" Clovis said icily, all the while wondering why he put up with their incompetence. The gun hidden in his drawer was suddenly an enticing prospect. "You've failed to protect it not once now, but _twice! _First Shinjuku, now this."

It was Kewell's turn to feel the pressure as the room's attention subtly shifted towards him. With the grace of a skilled politician, he handled the delicate situation with his silver tongue.

"I shall have to look over the base commander's performance once I get back, Prince Clovis." Kewell smoothly replied. "I assure you I will get to the bottom of this." The aristocrat vowed.

"If you wish to keep your head attached to your neck, you better do so quickly." Clovis snapped, obviously not buying into his words. "I've had just about enough of this, gentlemen. First, the base, next the JLF are gathering in strength at Narita. These rebels are getting bolder by the day and you men are letting it happen!"

"If I may, Your Highness, perhaps we can use this as an opportunity?" Kewell's dark skinned associated was the one to speak. Baroness Villeta Nu was her name, a rather fine specimen of the fairer sex in Clovis' opinion, though the thought did little to improve his mood. "Perhaps we can use their own boldness against them. Let them believe they have a chance, then crush their hopes with an iron fist.

Clovis considered the idea. It was the first good one he had heard all day. "See that it is done, Major Nu." ordered Clovis, his appreciation for her going up a few notches and expanding past just her looks.

"As for the rest of you," he turned his eyes at the remarkably silent military officers, "I want the rebels who stole the gas found. I want the gas to be captured and I want anyone near it dead. Am I making myself _absolutely _clear?"

"Yes, Your Highness!"

* * *

**_October 14, 2017 (Z Day + 14)  
Britannian Forward Barracks, Chlef, Algeria , Area 17_**

"Attention!" Wood shouted sharply, causing the room's occupants to stand in greeting. Despite the solemnity required of them, they were grinning from ear to ear.

At the doorway was Lelouch vi Britannia, and the newly appointed CO of Taskforce Alpha. "At ease." He replied and the men visibly relaxed.

"It's good to have you back with us, sir." Wood greeted.

Lelouch patted his subordinate on the shoulder encouragingly. "Thank you. All things considered, you did a good job here, Wood."

Wood waved away his praise. "It was still you who guided us when it mattered most. We'd never have been able to take Chlef otherwise."

"Give yourself a little more credit than that, Wood." Lelouch answered. "Now, give me a sitrep."

Wood complied eagerly and pulled out a map of the area to begin the situation report. "Taskforce Alpha is, to date, composed of 3 rifle companies, a support company and a tank squadron. Lieutenants Hopkins, Cameron, Haywood and myself were the officers assigned here. As of last count, we have 379 men ready for combat and another 52 with varying degrees of injury."

That meant a little under half of his theoretically 700 strong force was unavailable to him. "What of our armor?"

"14 Darwins still usable at this point, sir, but we've got 4 attached Scourers and 4 Starfalls." Lelouch considered it for a moment. While the shortage in main battle tanks was cause for concern, the other combat vehicles more than made up for the deficiency.

"Support company's equipment?"

Wood sifted through his table of organization and equipment, haphazardly strewn on a table, before speaking. "The support company has 5 HMG teams, 9 mortar teams and enough ammunition to give these Africans hell thrice over."

"Have the men sink the tanks." It was a standard defensive measure used by many commanders. A fairly popular principle of Armor Doctrine was to place tanks in positions where they could fire, without being fired upon. In other words, show the guns, but hide the body. "Here, here and here." Lelouch pointed to three areas, seemingly at random, on the map.

Wood took note of the points, marking them with a pencil. "Lieutenant Wood, come in, Lieutenant Wood!" The radio, sitting quietly on the table up until that point, crackled.

"This is Lieutenant Wood. What is it?"

"We've got unidentified Knightmare frames approaching us from Algiers! They look to be a new model…has Command said anything about this?" The voice of the sentry was frantic. Lelouch could picture him panicking right about now.

"Those are some of our new toys. Let them through." Lelouch instructed.

Wood nodded to confirm. "They're new models Command wants to field test. Let 'em through."

"Copy that, sir." The sentry clearly sounded relieved by the news.

"Let's continue…" Lelouch said, steering the conversation back to the matter at hand.

They managed to finish in good time, wrapping things up before their guests arrived. Victor and his men marched them into the room at gunpoint, despite the emblem of a Major clearly showing on the lead man's epaulettes. Lelouch nodded approvingly at the action. These men were still, technically, unknown to his men and it was wise to practice prudence at times like this.

The major dropped to a knee subserviently as soon as he was a few steps from the Prince. His posse followed suit with considerably less ease and zeal. Lelouch waved at his guards to stand down. "Jeremiah Gottwald, I presume?"

"Yes, Your Highness!" barked the strict man. "I am here as you commanded, Sire."

The prince eyed the four, widening slightly as he gazed over a familiar brown haired Japanese, but otherwise without comment. "Rise, Sir Gottwald and introduce your men to me."

Jeremiah rose slowly, still keeping his pose respectful. "To my right is Private First Class Eric Maximillan." The Britannian youth bowed to his Prince once more, honored to be in his mere presence. "To my left is Private Kenji Yamashina." The Japanese boy followed Maximillan's example, holding his head down even longer because of his status as a Number. "Lastly is Private-"

"Suzaku Kururugi," interjected Lelouch. "You're the last person I expected to see here."

The son of Japan's former Prime Minister bowed. "Someone has to keep you out of trouble, Your Highness."

Gottwald's mouth dropped, his eyes ricocheting between the two as his mind tried to make sense of the scene. "You two…know each other, Sire?"

"Suzaku was my host during my stay in pre-war Japan." Lelouch explained, before addressing his long lost friend once again. "For God's sake, look me in the eye Suzaku! Since when did friends treat each other so stiffly?"

He raised his head to regard his friend. "It wouldn't be proper. You're a Prince now."

A playful fire danced underneath Lelouch's eyes. "Are you saying I wasn't seven years ago?"

"I…no, that's not what I…uhh..." He stammered dumbly, taken aback by the sarcastic response.

Lelouch smirked mirthfully. "I'm just playing with you. Sheesh, relax a little." He said casually, rolling his eyes. "Seriously though, the Britannian Army is the last place I expected to find you."

"The same could be said for you." Suzaku shot back.

"Touché, but I joined because of circumstances beyond my control. What about you?"

"I've always believed that the best way to change things would be to work within the system."

"Idealistic as ever." Lelouch muttered, his smirk turning into a warm smile. "It's good to see you haven't changed after all these years."

Violet eyes turned to regard his newest recruits once more.

"Welcome to the war, gentlemen."

* * *

"Overseer, this is Scorpion One, we have visual on the Mutt."

"We read you, Scorpion One. Any changes to report?"

"Negative, Overseer. Mutt is approaching the Doghouse as planned. ETA 15 minutes, over."

"Copy that, Scorpion One. Head back to base, over."

The Britannian light tank rolled out of its cover, speeding away from the encroaching mass. A few shells tried futilely to hit it, but found that the vehicle moved too fast and was already out of their range. The formation slowed, spreading out to cover more ground. Infantry began to pile out of the tanks, searching for hidden traps that could doom their force.

"This is Overseer to all units. Roll out the Welcome Mat, over."

In the distance, four rail guns locked in on the awaiting targets, before unleashing their deadly payload without discrimination. Hundreds of small, accelerated pellets assaulted the unprotected soldiers milling about, shredding through them mercilessly. Then, just as quickly as it started, it stopped, but the damage was already done. A score of men would never rise again.

The enemy tanks and Bamides rolled forward in response, hoping to cut their own losses by slaying the as of yet unseen assailant. The Argyls began an orderly withdrawal, stopping every once in a while to fire another barrage; never staying long enough to get caught, but just enough to keep the enemy on their tail. If the commander had paid more attention, he would've realized it was a trap in the making as his heavy hitters strayed away from the main formation of footmen.

"Welcome Mat to Overseer. The Mutt is pursuing as expected."

"Fall back to next positions, Welcome Mat. Prepare for Phase 3. Overseer to Bone, you are clear for Phase 2, over."

All along the road, shells tore into the vulnerable sides of the armored column. The Darwin's high explosive anti-tank or HEAT rounds ripped apart the air, each shot appearing to rock the very earth with their unholy explosions. While the shells were particularly effective against the armored fighting vehicles, all it could do was make the bulky mechas uncomfortable. Enemy tanks attempted to return fire, but found that most of their ammunition fell short, hitting the sand around the hidden tanks uselessly. With only their turrets exposed, they proved to be exceptionally difficult targets.

The Darwins chorused as they fired a second salvo into their hapless foes, tearing through hull, turret and armor in a deadly display of pyrokinetics. A lucky shot managed to glance a Darwin's hatch, blasting away its overhead covering and exposing the crew to the elements.

"Overseer, this is Bone. The Mutt is playing fetch."

"Copy that, Bone. Proceed to Phase 3, over."

The Britannian main battle tanks moved out of their cover, seemingly to flee from the approaching, and so far unstoppable, Bamides. The frames trudged on enduringly, despite their attached support units having been whittled down or separated by the hit and run tactics. A few shots were exchanged between the parties, and a tank would occasionally cease moving, but other than that, it was relatively uneventful.

It didn't take long for them to reach the city's perimeter, where the tanks promptly scattered in different directions. The Bamides, still numbering roughly 80 strong, split up in response to relentlessly run down the dispersing vehicles, refusing to let a single one escape. It was revenge for their fallen comrades.

In one part of the city, a triad of Knightmares chased a lone vehicle as it turned this way and that, weaving through the buildings like they were a maze. So engrossed were the trio in keeping up that they failed to see the crouched RPG teams waiting in the sides. By the time they realized what had occurred, the men had faded into the shadows once more, leaving the Bamides without their sand panels for rapid movement and essentially stuck within enemy lines.

In another area, a tank disappeared in a barrage of smoke from the nearby mortars, which also had the added effect of reducing visibility to nil. The pilots struggled to free their machines from the fumes only to wish that they hadn't for staring them down were the main guns of nearly five Darwins. They surrendered quickly after that.

All throughout the city, similar events occurred concurrently, grinding away at their numbers with each moment. It was when the enemy was down to the last 50 frames, most of these liberated from their sand panels, that they began to consolidate their strength. There was only one spot in the city that could fit them all – the city center. Fifty Knightmares was no force to laugh at, considering their adversaries had but four so far. The city could still be taken if they had managed to organize.

Keyword here being "if."

They never got out of the city center again.

"This is Overseer to Pet Control. The Mutt is in the Doghouse. Lock the gate for us."

Another chain of explosives went off at the base of the nearby buildings. Like clockwork, each fell into place, designed to fall so that they would seal the Bamides in with no way out. The engineers had done a damn good job making sure everything would go according to plan for the final phase of the operation.

"This is Prince Lelouch vi Britannia to all NAL troops. You are surrounded by my men and are in range of my artillery and mortars. I hear they're in need of some target practice soon. Anyone who surrenders will be treated with leniency. On my honor as a Prince of Britannia, I swear. The choice is now yours." The loudspeakers blared, making sure to convey the message completely.

An ignoble death or a comfortable life; it wasn't a hard choice to make. Within minutes, the KMF pilots exited from their Bamides. Within the hour, the NAL commander officially handed his unconditional surrender to Prince vi Britannia. Within the day, Altair's Regiment arrived to transport the prisoners and readied them for sorting.

And in one swift stroke, the largest threat to Algiers was neutralized.

* * *

**_October 24, (Z Day + 24) _**

"Think fast."

Lelouch was brought out of his thoughts as a small black box hurtled towards him. Without thinking, he tried – and failed – to catch it as the small box grazed the tip of his fingers before bouncing off his cheek and cluttering to the floor. He gave his CO a dark look as he leaned down to retrieve it.

Ryze merely grinned at him. "High Command was impressed by your actions at Chlef. They've sent you a little gift."

His curiosity now raised, Lelouch lifted the lid, revealing a single bath star gleaming in the dim light. With wide eyes, he reached out to caress it, as if trying to confirm if it was actually there.

The colonel seemed to sense his feelings. "It's real alright. I checked it myself." He informed him.

"I've been bumped up three ranks." muttered the boy in a daze.

"You've more than earned it, _Major _vi Britannia."

"Th-thank you, sir." stuttered Lelouch, shifting his weight between his feet, still uncomfortable with his CO's sudden 180 in attitude regarding himself.

"Welcome to Regimental Command. By the way, Sir Gottwald asked me to pass along a message to you." He stroked his chin in muse, trying to remember. "Something about a call from Area 11? Does that ring a bell?"

Lelouch frowned and shook his head. "Not particularly, sir. I'll find out soon enough though. Permission to leave, sir?" He asked with a crisp salute.

"Granted."

* * *

**October 28 (Z Day + 28)  
Tunisia-Libya Border,  
**  
Lelouch blinked.

He rubbed his bleary eyes. Then he blinked.

Still no change…damn it.

He lowered his binoculars and handed it to Wood wordlessly, pointing to the flag in the distance. "What do you see?"

Wood raised it to his eyes to take a look. "That's a flag, sir." He stated matter-of-factly. "Is…is that…no fucking way. What are _they _doing here?"

"Command hasn't mentioned anything about this." Jeremiah, who stood behind him, scowled. "This changes things. If they're involved now, it means we'll be facing far more dangerous enemies than just mere rebels."

"Orders sir?" Wood asked, looking to Lelouch for instructions.

"Fortify our camp and have the men made aware of our situation. Jeremiah, take the Zero Squad and cover our scouts. We need to better intel on what we're up against."

"Yes sir!"

Goddamn Europeans.

* * *

Odysseus eu Britannia, the First Prince, Heir Apparent and Lord High Steward of the Holy Britannian Empire, rubbed the bridge of his nose to relax himself as his head throbbed from the giant migraine he was getting.

Suffice to say, things were _not _good.

Seated around the oval conference table were several notable individuals and key figures of the Empire. Marshals, Admirals, Generals, Viceroys, Princes, Princesses and the highest echelons of the Administration gathered before him to discuss the latest developments in the Empire.

Contrary to popular belief, he wasn't completely oblivious of his shaky status. He was the Mediocre Prince, not the Clueless Prince.

Excluding the Emperor, he was technically the highest ranking individual in the Empire; the final word on any and all affairs. That was an illusion only for the masses.

Anyone who was _anyone _knew the real power lied with the Lord High Chancellor and Prime Minister, Schneizel el Britannia.

He had made peace with this fact a long time ago. Simply put, he was but a speck in comparison to his genius of a brother. Odysseus was outclassed in every sense of the word. Still, when shit hit the fan, it was still he who was expected to step up. All of the blame and none of the praise, such was the inequality of life.

In many ways, being the firstborn was a curse. If you did something right, it was "expected." If you screwed up, you were condemned. While it wouldn't be fair to say that his other siblings felt none of the pressure to succeed, they certainly didn't feel it in the same degree.

"Cornelia," he started, informally addressing his sibling soldier attending via satellite connection, "could you tell us what happened?"

"EU forces launched a surprise attack. That's what!" She screeched, seething furiously.

"Please, sister, remain calm." Odysseus placated, calmly resting his head on his bridged fingers.

"Calm?" The Field Marshal repeated. "You want me to _remain _calm?! The barbarians are at the gates and you want me to be calm!"

Carline, ever the advocate for violence, slammed her palms into the table in a grab for attention. "I agree with sister. We should bomb them to oblivion!"

In direct contrast to her was William, the 4th Prince. "Unwarranted aggression will hardly make things better. We've already got the Chinese Federation eyeing Area 11. We can't afford a war with the EU right now."

Robert, his junior by a few minutes, decided to make his own thoughts known. "Our army is the strongest in the world. It doesn't matter who aligns against us, we'll emerge victorious in the end."

"Don't let overconfidence dull your mind." chided Clovis. "We may be the strongest, but that doesn't make us invincible."

Orion rui Britannia sneered disdainfully. "Methinks being in such close proximity to the Chinese has made a coward of our brother."

"Tch, hardly." scoffed Clovis, brushing aside the insult. "Besides, you can do better than Ad Hominems, Orion."

"Besides," Altair leaned forward, smirking jeeringly, "your recent service record hardly speaks well for you. Your men haven't even _seen _the new frames, much less fought them."

Orion scowled and opened his mouth to unleash, what one could presume, was a scathing retort. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on who you asked, someone put a stop to it.

"Speaking of which," Schneizel interrupted before the discussion could be derailed any further, "Lelouch, have you any intel on Europe's latest war machines?"

Lelouch punched in a few keys and his screen changed to a Knightmare with claws for arms and cannons for palms. "This model is the Gardemare, France's answer to the Gloucester. As you can see from the design, it's made for close combat. They're extremely fast and agile for a 5th gen frame. We suspect they're using a modified version of the MEF's sand panels. They've made these things far faster than anything we've encountered before."

"Any weaknesses?"

Lelouch gave them a somber shake of his head. "Unfortunately, few that we can see. I've sent a couple to the labs for reverse engineering. Hopefully, the techs will have better news for us. It can take just as good as it gives too. Nothing short of heavy artillery can dent its armor."

"Next up we have the Panzer-Hummel A2, the Armored Bumblebee. It's pretty much a jacked up Bamide on speed. Our Sutherlands can't match them from afar and are hard pressed to get near. In the hands of a mediocre commander, _maybe _we could beat back the EU offensive. It's just our luck that Erwin Rommel, of all people, was put in charge."

"It gets worse." Cornelia added. "Russian troops have begun streaming in from the Caucasus and the Dardanelles. They've completely smashed my army's rear. We suspect that Georgy Zhukov is in command."

The room descended into a contemplative atmosphere as they let the information simmer in their heads. Faced with two of the EU's finest generals and weapons that far outstripped their own, their chances for victory fizzled.

Schneizel was the first to break the glum mood. "Surrender at this point would be out of the question. If we back down now, it would set a precedent that we do not want." He reasoned soundly. "It is also clear that a prolonged war would doom us to an even worse fate, unconditional surrender."

The mere mention of the words was distasteful to everyone in the room. Surrender…it was an unthinkable outcome. Britannia had not given up after 2 centuries of bloody battles and escalating mortality.

"We must strike a decisive victory quickly then." Odysseus said, catching on to his brother's thoughts. "Scare them into thinking we can still win, and negotiate a peace on our terms."

"Intuitive as always, Odysseus." Schneizel smiled patronizingly with a tinge of amusement.

"I learned from the best." Odysseus replied, masking his bitter smile behind a pleased grin.

* * *

_"It was just a few minutes past 10 when the Argyls, strange looking contraptions, rolled into the city. They elicited none of the awe of the polished Sutherlands and the majestic Gloucesters, but looked rather grim in comparison. No offense intended, but these things clearly weren't built to show off. _

_In any case, they still packed quite a punch. Sarge looked ready to hug the thing the first time we saw it fire. It completely outranged those Goddamn Bamides. Its rounds, trifle round things the size of a marble, tore cleanly through the frame, dismantling it after a few shots. The Bamides had been harassing us day and night ever since we took the city, and we had nothing to fight them with. The mortars didn't have the range, and the Darwins couldn't get a kill shot. _

_It caused quite a buzz and the lads were still talking 'bout them during supper. Sarge Wolfe of 1st Company jokingly called them the 'Zero Squad' because of their IDs. A Zero-One, A Zero-Two and so on. It was a good name, and it caught on fast. By the time the sun was up, the entire camp was calling it that. The Black Prince liked the idea as well, and decided to officiate the name soon after. _

_His reason on paper was that 'it was an appropriate designation for the Special Unit, since any of the counting numbers would surely be taken by the regular squads. Being separate from the regulars, they were, therefore, the 0th Squad.' _

_Really, he was just being a good sport. That's what I love 'bout the guy. He's the people's Prince through and through, not like those snobs up in Pendragon. Anyway… _

_Ironic thing about the Zero Squad is that it was never really a squad. At least, not according to the brass's definition. Back when they were starting as a volunteer test unit, there were only four of 'em. Later on when the Prince turned the unit into his personal guard, their ranks fluctuated between two and eight, but never landed on six. It was sorta an inside joke in our regiment."_

_-excerpt from: Memoirs of the Black Knights – The Zero Squad_

**AN: On the title: "Control the Center, Control the Game" is a typical chess saying teachers use to express the importance of maintain influence over the four central spots on the board. In the story, one could connote this to mean control over C.C. (Area 11 subplot) and control over Algiers (main plot). **

**Right…so Lelouch lives! I doubt anyone's surprised ^^**

**What are your thoughts on the Chapter? Have I done Mao some justice? I know he's an insane sort, but he struck me as a mad-genius type.**

**How about the battle scenes? How do you prefer them written? Similar to the previous chapters where we have Lelouch relaying instructions…or like looking at things from a bird's eye view? Without explanations of the final plan? With? Leave your thoughts on the box below.**


	6. The Closed Game

**AN: Next Chapter is here!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own CG. **

**Chapter 6: The Closed Game**

_"The Man Behind the Machine  
by Andrew Wilkins_

_November 30, 2017_

_We've all heard of the military exploits of our Eleventh Prince these past few weeks…and even more about the so called "Mystery Machines" in his arsenal. These "revolutionary tools", as the analysts call them, were instrumental in both the war and the future of Knightmare development. The question still remains though…just where exactly did these things come from?_

_After weeks of searching, Corporate Centennial is proud to be able to deliver the much awaited answer. _

_The inventor of the new Knightmares is none other than Ruben K. Ashford, CEO of the former Ashford Foundations and Superintendent of the Ashford Academy in Area 11! _

_The Ashford Foundation was one of the premier companies contributing to the initial development of the Knightmare Frames. However, they faded to obscurity 7 years ago for reasons yet to be known, leaving behind a legacy that many other companies (e.g. Eisenheim Development Corporation, Krum Technology Company) were eager to continue. _

_It seems though that their years spent in isolation were not wasted. They are back and more than ready to take back their mantle as the spearhead of the Empire's flourishing Knightmare trade. The new design is but one in a series. While we are not at a liberty to say as of now what might be brought to the table in detail, we can safely say that even more of these innovative weapons are soon to grace the fields of war._

_Several notable figures have commented on the likelihood that a mutually beneficial contract will soon be signed with the ASEEC. An interview with Mr. Ashford revealed that the Ashford Foundation plans on going public very soon."_

* * *

**_November 9, 2017 (Z Day + 40)  
Tunisia-Libya Border_**

The Special Unit designated as the A-04 made its way to the top of the hill, mounting a commendable display against the fine, white powdery sand that covered the slopes, with less effort than normal. Its newfound mobility in the unforgiving terrain – at least when it came to wheels – was thanks to the outlandish looking attachment where its landspinners should have been. The add-on, an expedient measure employed by the field engineers, was a skewed mimicry of the MEF's sand panels and their newest brother, the EU's vastly superior all-terrain panels - or "altraps" for short.

While completely outclassed in terms of performance, the makeshift imitation managed to get the job done. And in any case, it was a tremendous improvement in the desert compared to the practically inoperable landspinners.

Pilots with the outfitted frames were especially keen to show their appreciations…well let's just say many Shisha bar owners in Area 17 became wealthy overnight.

"Kururugi, are you in position yet?" Gottwald's impatient voice streamed in from the radio.

"Yes sir." Suzaku answered back respectfully. He sensed that the man was annoyed with him, once again, for reasons that were yet to be apparent to him. He briefly considered the likelihood that the Major simply disliked him altogether.

"About time." Gottwald muttered obnoxiously, as if to purposely show his displeasure. "Prepare to cover the recon team."

"Roger that." Eric Maximillan said cheerily.

"Understood." Kenji followed not a moment later.

"I copy, sir." Suzaku found himself saying as he zeroed in on the incoming patrol, which was just a speck in the distance. His hands unconsciously went through the motions of preparing the rail gun for firing, having gained muscle memory for the task after a week of doing essentially the same thing thrice a day. The Knightmare responded to his touch, taking up a firing stance with its rail gun resting atop of the modified riot shield for added stability. Suzaku waited until the pursuing enemy units were closer so he could get a look and found that they were tanks. Casually, he switched from Anti-Personnel to Anti-Tank munitions.

"I've got lead tank in sight." Suzaku reported, the KMF's arm moving ever so slightly so as to be aimed ahead of the vehicle. It was an adjustment necessary given the distance they were firing from.

"Second tank is mine."

"Got eyes on the Gardemare."

There was a momentary pause before Gottwald spoke again. "Weapons free!"

The four began to unleash a steady stream of fire, and were rewarded with the quick obliteration of their targets.

Eric whistled wolfishly. "Have I mentioned how much I love my Argyl?'

"Yes." Suzaku answered curtly.

"About fifteen times now." Gottwald noted dryly.

"In the past hour alone." Kenji said with a loud sigh.

"Well I really, really do!" Eric continued chattily. "Oh the things I'd do to this machine if it were an actual human being…"

Suzaku found his talkative teammate's trail of thought to be fairly disturbing and promptly channeled him out, shifting his focus towards the ocean of sand.

His heart suddenly stopped as an inexplicable terror seized his chest. His body was already moving on its own accord before his mind could register what was going on. It was as if some sixth sense in him had activated.

The Argyl 04 swerved sharply to its left while turning around, managing to catch _something _on its shield arm. Suzaku's eyes narrowed at the familiar clawed arm of the Gardemare, jutting through his tactical shield.

"I'm under attack!" He shouted into the comm. channel, jerking his shield to the side to avoid the cannon-palm of his assaulter while blasting at its chest with his rail gun. At such close range, even its reinforced armor couldn't save it.

"Shit, me too!" Eric cried out. An explosion resounded in the distance and black smoke marred the sky. "I managed to eject, but my unit's toast." He said mournfully, a choked sob in his throat.

He really loved that machine.

"Pull back! Eric relay your location to me and I'll pick you up." Gottwald ordered. "Yamashina, go help Kururugi."

The other Japanese boy answered in the affirmative even as his IFF beeped closer towards Suzaku on the map.

He wouldn't make it in time, Suzaku realized grimly, as he stared down another Gardemare. "Sir Gottwald, I'm currently facing another enemy KMF. I've lost my shield." Suzaku glanced down at the rectangular wreck with giant holes in the middle. "And I doubt I can dodge him."

Gottwald snorted condescendingly. "Don't tell me you've actually given up."

Suzaku had a ghostly smile on his face. "I'll take him down with me if I can."

"I'll write your eulogy." Jeremiah replied dryly. "Just make sure you don't leave anything that will give away the Argyl."

"I'm touched by your concern." Suzaku said, rolling his eyes as he prepared for what would be his final battle. With a roar, he pushed his controls forward, charging his machine towards the other like a Knight jousting in a tournament.

The pilot proved just as bold, sending the Gardemare forward at a noticeably faster rate. Suzaku leveled his unwieldy metal graft like a lance and prepared to spear his opponent through the chest. Unfortunately, he had never taken a class in physics.

Doubly unfortunate, it was coming back to bite him.

The long rods of metal failed to hold up against gravity without the shield to stabilize it from underneath. Suzaku suddenly had an epiphany as to why they had been drilled to fire in one position alone for long range targets, with rail gun atop the shield while the latter protected their chest piece. It simply _couldn't _be raised past a certain angle without support.

Suzaku watched dumbly as the enemy frame deftly dodged his low hanging pseudo-lance – which admittedly wasn't much of a challenge give how it was aimed at the KMF's torso – and grappled him with the claws. One went straight for his rod, no innuendo intended, and the other for his shoulder. If the situation hadn't been so grave, Suzaku would have found the scene comical.

A channel request blinked on his screen which Suzaku accepted. No harm in getting to know his soon-to-be slayer.

The pilot, who turned out to be a Swede, had a face of abject surprise. "So young and already on the field…it would be a waste for you to die now. Stand down; I've already got a hold of your little gun."

"Kururugi!" Gottwald barked on the other end. "Don't even think of surrendering! Activate your rail gun!"

Suzaku frowned, annoyed at his demanding officer. "It would miss. He's got a hold of the rail gun, sir."

"JUST DO IT!" he roared angrily and Suzaku winced at the volume. Still, ever the soldier, he followed his orders to the letter. Electricity cackled along the arm in a dangerously random pattern.

And in an instant, both machines had smoke emitting from them dangerously even as Suzaku's eyes watched his display beep critically in warning. The internal systems began to fail and the inevitable crash occurred.

Fuck, he was going to die a virgin…only the killing blow never came.

Somewhat belatedly, Suzaku realized that whatever happened had fried both of their machines. Yamashina chose that moment to roll in, disassembling the disabled Gardemare into nuts and bolts. Kenji's appetite for destruction sated, he hailed Suzaku on the miraculously functioning radio.

"Managed to get here in time. What the hell did you do though? Your unit looks like shit…well more than usual anyways."

"Cut the chatter you two." Gottwald interjected curtly. "The electromagnetic current generated by the rail gun was enough to cause the circuitry to overload. Since the Gardemare was holding on to the non-insulated parts of the Argyl, it caused both machines to fry."

"Wow! You're like a regular Physics Prof, sir Gottwald!" Suzaku heard Eric say. He swore he also heard a vein on Jeremiah's head pop.

"Are you three telling me you had no idea of such a basic scientific concept?" asked the unamused Knight.

"Never quite really finished school, sir." Suzaku answered.

"Never had the _chance_, sir." Kenji said in a surprisingly bitter voice.

"Science hurts my head." Eric offered lamely.

A rhythmic banging was audible through the static. It sounded like…Jeremiah banging his head on the wall?

"Yamashina," he called out in a dejected voice. "Destroy the A-04. It's beyond saving now and we don't want it falling into the wrong hands. Get Kururugi out of there and we'll rendezvous at point 23."

Kenji acknowledged and proceeded to get to work.

"And when the four of us get back to base, we're going to have a _long _discussion about this with Prince Lelouch."

Once Suzaku was fitted snugly with his comrade in the Argyl's cockpit, Kenji switched his radio to receive only so that they wouldn't be overheard.

"Damn Britannian pig…" muttered Yamashina to Suzaku. "You almost get killed in action and he can't even bother to congratulate us on a job well done? How high are his standards?"

"He's our officer." Suzaku said with an accepting shrug, clearly used to even worst treatment. "Demanding the impossible is like a requirement for them."

"Well, what's with his attitude? He sounds like he has it in for you when you've done absolutely nothing wrong." Yamashina continued complaining. "Damn Britannians hate us Japanese just because we were born."

"They're not all like that." protested Suzaku, though the back of his mind agreed.

"Well I've never met one that actually appreciated us." Yamashina pointed out. Suzaku did not reply, bothered by his friend's near treasonous words.

And ever so slightly, he felt his resolve waver.

* * *

**_November 11, 2017  
Ashford Academy, Tokyo Concession, Area 11_**

"Kallen Stadtfeld."

The redhead turned around to see that it was a familiar blonde who had called. Milly strutted forward, much like a peacock, jutting her breasts forward suggestively while her hands remained at her hips.

Kallen dearly hoped the girl - whom she suspected to be lesbian or at least bisexual - wasn't hitting on her.

Milly leaned forward, making the half Britannian blush from the generous sight of her cleavage. "Like what you see?" she purred in her ear, and Kallen gained a striking resemblance with a tomato.

Instinctively, Kallen took a step back from the domineering girl, self-preservation at work.

Milly wasn't about to let her prey go, stalking forward with a predatory gleam. Kallen gulped, and gripped her knife purse to assure herself that she could fight off the President if push came to shove.

Thankfully, it never came to that. "Madame President! Stop bothering poor Kallen!" The part-time terrorist sighed, both relieved, because she was saved from what was certainly a rape attempt, and annoyed, for being the object of unwanted pity. Still, Shirley was a nice girl who meant no harm, so she let the comment slide.

And she really didn't want to get sexually assaulted again.

Milly pouted, her eyes turning into giant watery orbs that seemed to shimmer in the light. "Aw, way to ruin my fun, Shirley."

"Look at the girl! You've traumatized her." Shirley said, pointing an accusatory finger at Milly.

"She's completely fine." Milly answered without even a glance at her victim. "Anyways, I've got news for you gu-"

She was interrupted as something bumped into her lightly.

"O-oh! I-I'm very sorry, M-Madame President!" The intruder, presumably female, apologized profusely.

Kallen edged to the side to peek at the young girl who had run interference accidentally. She was a rather petite thing, almost a head shorter than Milly but with the same radiant blond hair.

Milly gave her a patronizing pat on the head. "Don't worry about it Alice." She turned back to her friends and continued, as if nothing happened. "As I was saying, my granddad's finally hit it big. You know all that talk about the new frames in Area 18, well…"

Kallen tuned her out, her eyes zoning in on Alice appraisingly. She seemed frail but had the same quiet, determined look behind her eyes. With a pause, Kallen realized she was reminded a little of herself.

"…and there he is now, with Prince Clovis!" Milly gushed, the last part in a gossipy tone and an outstretched finger.

Kallen's eyes followed and landed on a familiar face adorned in ridiculously splendid clothing. It was indeed the Viceroy of Japan escorted by the Superintendent and an unknown man, likely a bodyguard, though surprisingly without his normal procession or fanfare.

She failed to take note that Alice had vanished from the corner of her eye.

* * *

Clovis felt uneasy coming to the school incognito and without even a single bodyguard to have his back should things turn unpleasant somehow. His captain had assured him that the grounds were covered by hidden snipers.

Somehow, that didn't make him feel any better.

At least he had Diethard with him though. The media man had a vicious left hook.

"This way please, Prince Clovis." Ashford spoke in a low, measured voice so as to not be overheard. "We're almost at the compound."

The compound was actually an underground weapons development facility that could be accessed via the school library. Despite being credited for contributing the increasingly famous Argyl model, Clovis wondered how sane the man was if he placed a _secret weapons testing lab _underneath a school!

Then again, there was an element of genius to it as nobody would've ever thought to look for it here.

"Here we are, Your Highness." Ashford voice cut through his thoughts like a knife. "This is the new experimental weapon Prince Lelouch has asked me to make."

"What is it?" Diethard asked, examining the contraption curiously from different angles, though maintaining a sizeable distance.

Ashford grinned at them, placing both hands fearlessly on the thing as if showing off a favorite child. Clovis had to give him points for balls. Not many would willingly handle what looked like a rocket launcher so crassly.

"The latest in infantry warfare. We've fine tuned this beauty to take down even the toughest frames the EU can put together. This, gentlemen, is the shoulder-mounted anti-knightmare device."

Clovis's lips settled into a disapproving line. "That's quite a mouthful."

"We're working on the name." Ashford answered dismissively.

"What does it run off, if you don't mind me asking?" Diethard asked. "It's definitely not just sakuradite."

"You recognize the design?" Ruben raised a brow, impressed by his knowledge.

"I took a few classes in college on engineering." Diethard replied absently, eyes still locked on the device.

"It's operated with nitradite, a fusion of liquid sakuradite and nitrogen. Sakuradite proved to be too unstable for a weapon of this caliber." His tone hinted at the disappointment he felt. "All that's left is a final test and producing our order."

"How many?"

Ashford looked at Clovis, astonished. "I beg your pardon?"

Clovis gave the man a hard look. "How many has he ordered and how much apiece?"

"I'm not sure I'm at a liberty to say." Ashford replied nervously.

"Listen." Clovis said, taking a step forward. His eyes burned with irritation. "If Lelouch asked me to take a look at his new toy, he did it for a reason. Now give me a damn answer."

"He ordered ten of them, a hundred thousand each."

"Quintuple it and take the money from my account." Clovis ordered, turning on his heels to leave.

His brother was going to need all the help he could get in the coming months. The least he could do was foot the bill. Besides, funding a war hero was the easiest way to earn glory without actually having to be on the God forsaken front lines.

"So, Mr. Ashford, would you mind if I interviewed you?" Diethard asked forwardly.

"Anything I share with you doesn't get published until the 30th. That's non-negotiable." Ruben said, tilting his head to the side. "The Prince's orders."

"Alright, first question then…"

* * *

**_November 15, 2017 (Z Day + 46) _**

"This news is most troubling." Ryze mused.

"The fact that my personal squad is bereft of even basic education or the fact that we lost two Argyls?" Lelouch asked, eyes shifting around every so often.

"The latter." Ryze tilted his head to regard a map of the area. "Although the former is also cause for concern."

"We're unlikely to be able to keep the status quo as things are." Lelouch pointed out.

"We no longer have to." Ryze regarded his apprentice with a grin. "The last of 3rd Division has finally reached Tunis. General Hayes has given us the go ahead to pull back if our situation became untenable, and it has."

"I was starting to worry we'd actually run out of sakuradite before we'd be forced to retreat." Lelouch said cockily.

"Pride goes before the fall."

* * *

As the days passed slowly for the men, Lelouch found himself anxious about an altogether different matter. If his thoughts became public knowledge, many would give him strange looks. After all, why bother thinking of something as trivial as your relationship with the CO when the enemy was just across the walls?

Still, if there was one thing he understood perfectly, it was the Game of Kings. In chess, one had to keep an eye on the big picture and not just the immediate future for a move that might appear good in the short term might in fact doom you into checkmate, ironically enough. A certain amount of foresight was necessary to survive as well in the highly socio-political of the military body. So intertwined were the Nobles in the Armed Forces, and vice-versa, that it was now impossible to create a clear segregation between them.

Simply put, he was uneasy about the Colonel.

Fact number one, he had been harshly berated and punished for succeeding in his first mission, ahead of time, because of a single error on his part. Fact number two, he was a newly found, relatively unknown Britannian Prince.

Given these two, the likely conclusion Lelouch had drawn was that the Ryze had a clear dislike for Britannian Nobility, likely due to his own personal interactions with previous ones. Adding fact number three which stated that he was set in his ways given his immediate disdain without cause more because of Lelouch's title than his actual and rather exemplary actions. With the profile of an Anti-Noble in mind, it should have been easy to extrapolate the probable actions the man would take.

Only, his predictions turned out to be false.

Lelouch grinded his teeth at the mere thought; a grimace that was equally unpleasant and frustrated replacing his reserved expression.

If there was one thing he disliked with a passion, it was being proven wrong…which the good Colonel had succeeded in spectacularly. By his initial understanding of the man, the contempt and irritation would pass only with gradual effort and correction on his part to overcome his stubbornness.

When he found, therefore, that Ryze had been the first to extend an olive branch, he was forced to reevaluate his initial observations. Method required he input any additional information that might affect his conclusions.

This led to fact number four: Ryze had quite suddenly done a 180 in his attitude based on his own "sacrificial" actions on the field. Five, he was commended despite directly violating the chain of command for his intentions and results but criticized for his process. Six, the man had gone above and beyond to get him promoted, even hinting that he wished to see Lelouch occupy a higher post than himself eventually.

That made the man a result-oriented Meritocrat or an adherent of Realpolitik philosophy.

This created a contradiction. Both revised inferences went directly against the original facts. If Ryze was the latter, he wouldn't have dared to anger a Prince that was still an unknown. If he was the former, the punishment would not be to strip him of command but to give proper parameters for the next objective.

Method now required he attempt to bridge the contradictory conclusions.

Was it possible that the Colonel had a condition which could explain his sudden mood swings? The most likely cause was that he was going through a mid-life crisis. That shouldn't have been the case here. One did not rise to the rank of Colonel without learning to control one's emotions and keeping calm under fire, after all. Besides, making enemies out of royalty was not a move committed without thought. No one that foolish survived this long in the Military.

A second cause might be that he was secretly a woman who was undergoing her monthly cycle. Again, this was easily refutable by the argument above. The thought that his CO might be a cross-dresser, however, manage to elicit a small chuckle from Lelouch despite his contemplative mood.

The third and, by far, the most ridiculous, possibility was the strains of war these past few weeks had given the man multiple personalities. If so, it would explain why it didn't show in his records and why he was still in command.

What it didn't explain was why his behavior had remained consistent and that there were no lapses into the more unpleasant Colonel so far.

"Eliminate all other factors and what remains must be the truth." Lelouch quoted Holmes under his breath.

He did not have enough information to make an accurate assessment at this point which made Ryze an unknown factor still. This meant he was back to square one without a means to decipher the puzzle before him.

Lelouch growled, snapping the poor pencil - which had been nothing but a faithful writing instrument in the hours past - he had absently been clenching in his right hand.

That also meant he had to play the game with two arms tied behind him, an obviously metaphorical handicap he did not enjoy being in. He would have to play along with whatever plans the man had in mind for now.

Confrontation was out of the question as it meant he might risk gaining the ire of his far more amicable commander. That was a situation he'd rather _not _go back to given how far he had come. How the hell was he supposed to earn glory and rank if he got stuck in the back ranks doing menial jobs like cleanup supervisor and chief warden?

Better play it safe then.

* * *

"Greeting Abdul."

The Algerian man scowled at the shadowy figure standing in his doorstep. "So you've returned."

The figure, a man judging by the build of his body, smiled, clearly amused. "Of course I have. That was a given. Have you done what I asked?"

"Yes, the NAL or at least, what's left of us, are ready." Abdul answered bitterly. "Are you sure this will work?"

"You lack faith?" His eyes flashed dangerously.

"No!" yelped Abdul, eyes dropping reflexively to the holstered gun on his hips. "No, it's just my men…they do not seek a pointless death."

The figure chuckled coldly. "Don't worry your pretty little head. Allah will reward you ten times over once this is done."

"And for those of us less religious?"

"You will be vindicated." The figure promised. "Tunis will fall."

* * *

C.C. watched her latest contractor pace the room with a bored expression. He had been at it for the past few hours now. "What exactly is it that you plan to do, Mao?" To either side of her stood a Chinese man and woman, both keeping their expressions and thoughts blank, it seemed.

"Oh my dearest, darlingest C.C.!" Mao cried out. "I'm going to make those filthy Britannians pay for what they did to you! I'll tear their puny Empire apart one brick at a time if I have to!" He roared with a malevolence C.C. didn't realize he had.

"I don't really care much for that, Mao. I just want you to fulfill our contract." C.C. said.

"Oh I wouldn't do that to you, C.C.!"

The green haired witch crossed her arms with debilitate movement as she listened to Mao talk about his "fool proof" plan to crush Britannia. Immortality was such a chore.

The door to the apartment opened to reveal the red head that had been part of her rescue team. Now there was someone interesting. Perhaps she would be the one?

"Mao, I've brought the others, like you asked." Kallen replied.

Mao cackled madly, something that bothered the mortals but didn't even get anything more than an irate glance from the immortal. "Excellent!"

"Ohgi, get in here!" Kallen yelled, stepping aside to reveal a few other faces that hadn't been part of the rescue team.

C.C. smiled mischievously. The red head had been nice enough to bring friends too.

* * *

Lelouch sighed heavily as he heard another knock on the door. He already knew what it meant. There had been yet _another _case of misconduct by one of his officers…or more accurately, one of the nobles under his command. The problem of discipline was steadily spinning out of control as the men, fearing their last days were upon them, had engaged in all manner of debauchery.

Each passing day saw more cases, more complaints by the locals. Frankly, Lelouch had had enough of it.

He didn't bother to answer the door, instead choosing to step out of his newly requisitioned office. Without a word, the messenger turned to lead him towards the town center. His guards at either side of the door followed their master obediently.

The moment he saw the place, he knew something very bad had happened.

The crowd's anger was palpable for miles around. Their murderous intent, he found, singularly centered on the six bound individuals on a raised platform and held at bay only by the armed guards that lined the perimeter imposingly.

As Lelouch stepped onto the stage, the dangerous murmurs died down as all eyes settled on him. Up close, Lelouch saw the infuriatingly smug grin on the only officer's face, one of his lieutenants named Baldwin. The other five were mere privates and they twitched under the Prince's stern gaze.

"What are the charges?" He asked in a voice that was guarded.

One of the soldiers onstage responded. "Rape, sir." He shifted uneasily as Lelouch's took on a stormy character.

"How many girls?"

Despite the warning bells ringing in the man's head, he responded once more dutifully. "One, sir."

"Thank you, Corporal." Lelouch said icily, his eyes never leaving the six perpetrators. He began to project his voice so that it would carry towards the crowd clearly. "Lt. Baldwin, I have always believed that officers should be held accountable for the actions of their men. That is the burden of command that all of us assumed when we agreed to become officers of His Majesty's Army."

Baldwin's smug look was replaced by a bemused one. Where was the Prince going with this?

"To be an officer is a privilege and as such we are expected to set the standard for our men. We are, after all, called to lead by example. Your men will be subjected to thirty lashes each for abandoning their posts." He pronounced, and the five privates seemed torn between looking grateful and pained. On one hand, they had been expected to be killed for they were Numbers after all. On the other, lashing was, in a word, brutal.

"You, however, will be given no such punishment." Baldwin's arrogant smirk returned to haunt the villagers, mocking them with his triumph. The natives booed, shouted obscenities and began to hurl fruits at the stage clumsily, but Lelouch waited for them to finish until he continued.

"Because your punishment will be death." The words hung heavily in the air oppressively, a heavy weight to all those who heard it.

Baldwin's expression became a shocked one as his mind finally deciphered his words. "S-sir?" He stuttered fearfully.

Lelouch did not answer except by withdrawing a pistol from its holster and aiming it at his subordinate steadily.

"Sir, please!" Baldwin's pleading fell on deaf ears. He cocked the pistol and willed his hand to not begin trembling.

This has to be done, Nunnally.

Lelouch fired.

Time seemed to slow as the bullet zipped out of the barrel, eager to take a life. The weapon felt heavy in Lelouch's hand, and he let it drop to his side just as the now lifeless body slumped over.

"NO!" Lelouch looked over his shoulder to see another soldier crying out, shooting daggers at him. He was probably of some relation to the Baldwin.

Lelouch saw Yamashina physically restrain the boy, whispering something into his ear, but found that he didn't care much about it. He was too troubled by his own thoughts. It was…entirely different to actually kill a man with your own hands, as opposed to just ordering them dead.

Beneath the stone mask he wore, he felt sick.

* * *

Lelouch wondered briefly why he had been called by Ryze. His thoughts immediately flittered to his most recent actions – the execution. 2nd Lt. Thomas Baldwin was the son of a minor baron station in Area 4, the deceptively named Greenland. The fact that his family had been given a fief in the desolate mass of ice spoke volumes of their standing in the Court and before the Emperor.

Not highly at all. There should have been no overt risks that resulted unless…Lelouch's eyes widened in sudden realization, while his skin paled considerably in conjunction.

Unless Ryze was related. That explained why Baldwin was always a bit chummy with the Colonel. They didn't share a surname so he could be the boy's uncle?

SHIT! He had just shot his CO's cousin! From his favorite brother, no less!

As Lelouch's mind began on its downward spiral of jumping to unfounded conclusions at a dizzying rate, Ryze watched him with a perplexed look. He leaned forward to rest his chin on his palm. "Do you know why I've called you here?"

Lelouch nodded gravely, tilting his head so that he wouldn't have to look at the man with guilt-ridden eyes. "It's about the execution, sir. I apologize for acting out of line, sir, it won't happen again. I didn't realize that Lieutenant Baldwin was a close relation of yours until recently and decided that in the interest of maintaining regimental discipline and-"

"WHAT?!" Ryze, who had been nodding throughout his explanation, suddenly yelped as his mind processed what had just been uttered. "Lt. Baldwin is of no relation to me." He clarified in a deadpan voice that could not be mistaken for an attempt at humor.

Lelouch's head raised a few degrees in response. "Oh. Then respectfully sir, I have no idea why I'm here. It was well within my authority to execute him for insubordination." A bit of color began rushing back to his face as he let out a sigh in relief.

"I'm well aware, Major. What I wanted to know was your reasoning for doing so."

"Like I said, sir, it was to maintain regimental-"

Ryze sighed, closing his eyes softly. "An explanation _without _the bullshit, if you please." He requested rather than ordered.

Lelouch stopped himself mid-nod, realizing that the gesture would be pointless give his commander's temporary lack of sight. "The locals play an essential role in ensuring the city does not fall to the EU. While they may not necessarily like us, that doesn't mean the masses hold the EU in any higher regard. To them, they are just the same conquistadores under another flag and are decidedly fence sitters in this war. In fact, if my information is correct, only a small percentage of the NAL leadership see the EU as allies which is unsurprising considering the EU's domineering, exploitative and criminally capitalist policies towards their subsidiaries." rattled off Lelouch without a moment's pause.

"If the locals were to see the…benefits of remaining under our control, that is, a greater respect for their rights, we'd be depriving the EU of potential manpower and supplies even if we should fail here. With the EU's intent focus on liberty, I doubt that their own men would have qualms _liberating_ a few girls of their virginity."

"How very pragmatic of you." Ryze commented drawly. "Are you sure there weren't any ideological motives behind it?"

Lelouch frowned distastefully. "I will admit that there was. I find rape to be an abhorrent practice, especially if the father gets away scot free, as the case may be."

"An opinion no doubt cultivated by Lieutenant Wood's condition." mused Ryze. He waved his hand, gesturing for Lelouch to dismiss his own thoughts. "Why pick Mr. Baldwin as your scapegoat? I'm sure you thought this out carefully." His tone suggested he would be extremely disappointed if it hadn't.

"Baldwin was a choice of convenience to keep the officers' in line. The rank and file knows that I'm intolerant of such transgressions, but the officers' are another case…"

"Because they're nobles?" Ryze asked curiously as his eyes lids rose to consider him.

Lelouch nodded sharply. "Yes, among other things. Most nobles, no matter how insignificant, gain a superiority complex and a clear disdain for rules, as I'm sure you are familiar with on a…personal level." The small grin tugging on Ryze's lips was all the confirmation he needed. "This belief that they are exempt from certain orders makes them a liability and I had to impress myself on them more forcefully. A few planned 'executions' wouldn't cut it. Those were common enough as it is and they barely regard it as anything but a slap on the wrist. I needed a show of force."

"So Baldwin had the misfortune of getting caught."

"Yes. I also took into account the political ramifications my actions could have and found that these were relatively insignificant. Baldwin came from a minor barony and his family has little political sway these days. Neither did he have many real friends in the regiment aside from his cousin." Lelouch repressed a shudder as he recalled the murderous look on said cousin's face. "He therefore made a prime candidate to be made an example of and it was an opportunity I could not pass up on." This last part was voiced in an emotionally detached tone that seemed almost…robotic.

Ryze let the words simmer in his mind before nodding to agree with the frighteningly correct and highly Machiavellian analysis. "What if he hadn't been caught though? Would you have waited for another or…?"

Lelouch's face turned into stone. "I would have created circumstances…favorable for my objectives until a candidate met all the preliminary conditions as to make my actions justifiable in a cost-benefit analysis."

The Colonel looked at him with startled eyes. His entire spine lost any degree of warmth it once had. "You would set one of them up?" hissed Ryze, venomously. It was a warning to proceed with caution.

"Not exactly," Lelouch began in a placating tone that seemed to calm the incensed man fractionally, "it would be more accurate to say that I'd magnify one of their lesser crimes. Despite what you may think, I'm not a monster." snapped the boy, though the words seemed directed more inwards than anything else, "I wouldn't kill an innocent man."

"This is a war. Nobody's innocent." Ryze muttered darkly. "While I find your methods extremely efficient, I would caution you on this path. Playing with lives is a slippery slope."

"This is a war." mimicked Lelouch. "We're already playing with lives."

The two lapsed into an awkward silence as Ryze found no reply to the chilling truth of the statement.

"You don't like me all too much." Ryze said out of nowhere.

"Sir?"

"It shows in your body language. Your shoulders always stiffen marginally when I speak and relax just as much when I finish without insulting you. Your expression is guarded, usually neutral, as if your contemplating what the appropriate response should be. You want to please me, perhaps just as much as I want to please you." That sounded so wrong, Ryze thought sharing a wince with Lelouch at the double meaning intertwined with the words. "Do you ever wonder why?"

"Sir?" Lelouch repeated again.

Ryze sighed, leaning back into his chair. "You are always on edge around me, as if I am a refined sakuradite tanker waiting to explode." It was an apt metaphor. "I suppose it's only fair given how I first treated you. And I suppose it's also fair that you wish to maintain this status quo for the time being given the benefits. In fact, my actions would thoroughly confuse myself if put in your place. But do you ever wonder why?"

"I've spent more time than I care to." Lelouch admitted frankly, tilting his head to the side.

To hell with caution. This might be his only chance at getting the answers he so craved. Besides, he started it. "I find that your actions seem almost contradictory and I'm unable to reconcile them…or to come up with a reason for them."

Ryze's smile spoke of his bemused state. "You mean you don't..." He paused halfway, smacking himself for his own stupidity. "Of course you don't know. You've only recently become a Prince again."

"If you're quite done having this conversation with your alter ego…" Lelouch was tempted to say, but wisely stayed his tongue.

"Do you know what it means to be assigned as a CO of a Prince?" Ryze asked rhetorically. "It means you're about to be taken off of the advancement queue. It's effectively an end to your military career."

Lelouch's brow shot up like a rocket. "What?"

Ryze nodded to reiterate his point. "When a Prince is assigned to his first Regiment, more often than not, it becomes his Sworn Regiment."

A look of realization crossed Lelouch's face as his mind rapidly raced to connect all the dots. A Sworn Regiment was exactly what its name meant - a Regiment swearing fealty to a noble much like the serfs were pledged to their Lord. The two systems went hand in hand.

"A CO of a Sworn Regiment doesn't have much of a choice in advancement afterwards unless he renounces his vows or refuses to be sworn in." Ryze continued with a scowl.

"And even then you'd be screwed for pissing off a royal. You'd be stuck with me or gutted like a fish." Lelouch finished for him.

Talk about damned if you do, damned if you don't. Lelouch actually felt bad for causing him this much heartache.

"Exactly. Look at me Britannia; I'm only thirty-seven and a father of two. I don't have that many friends in politics either. What I do have is my army career to keep my family safe. I can't risk having people going after my kids!" Ryze exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

Lelouch could sympathize with him there. He'd done the same thing 7 years ago to protect Nunnally after all. "That doesn't explain why the sudden change of attitude if you didn't want to get involved in politics."

"Between the choices of maybe pissing off some nobles and definitely pissing off a Prince?" Ryze gave him a look.

"Right, sorry, stupid question." Lelouch apologized hastily. Slowly, the missing gaps in his mind were filled as he gained a deeper insight into what made his Commander tick.

"If I sided with you, I'd at least have a chance. You're a good bet as any, Britannia." He smiled crookedly. Lelouch stared, wide-eyed at the unexpected and actually _genuine _praise. "And I was also hoping that, on the off chance, I might get promoted to Brigadier General before you asked. I could then leave the entire mess behind me."

In the midst of all this political scheming and positioning, Ryze hadn't considered one scenario. "What makes you so sure I want a Sworn Regiment?" Lelouch asked.

"You mean…you don't want one?" Ryze asked back, dumfounded.

Lelouch shook his head. "Why the hell would I want one? Maintaining a private army is expensive as hell." He was only making an educated guess here, of course, but his guesses were rarely wrong.

"I hadn't considered that." muttered Ryze obviously. "Most royals join the military in a brief tour of duty just to get a few loyal soldiers."

"My sister, the Field Marshall, never bothered with one." Lelouch pointed out. "And she's got _two _armies worth of men completely loyal to her. Why would I need to do the same, especially since I actually _plan _to maintain my career? I've got aspirations too, you know." He said indignantly, crossing his arms with a huff.

The Colonel cracks a relieved smile. "My apologies, Major. I failed to consult with you beforehand and fear I've caused more grief than necessary for the both of us."

Lelouch waved his hand. "We'll call it even then as I failed to consult with you beforehand in Algiers. Let bygones be bygones."

Ryze nodded his head gratefully and rose from his seat to salute first as a sign of respect.

Lelouch was just happy he could finally concentrate on surviving the damn siege.

* * *

**_November 18, 2017  
Vermillion Forbidden City, Luoyang, China _**

The similarities between the Chinese Federation and the Holy Britannian Empire ended with their governments of Imperial Monarchy. While Britannian rulers were strong, fierce and feared, the Chinese child Empress, Tianzi, was weak, mild but loved. Having been chained most of her life in the Forbidden City, control of the Federation lay in the hands of eight men - the High Eunuchs.

An albino cleared his throat, before speaking. "The preparations in Japan are well under way. The Veiled Pavilion will soon be ready to act."

"This plan seems risky to me, Gao Hai." A spectacled one stated. "The chances that something might go wrong…"

"If it fails, it fails." The eldest of the lot answered, an air of apathy surrounding him. "But we'll still have plan B even so. Think of this as just a way to weaken the Britannians."

"It's still a considerable risk we're taking, especially if they discover our involvement. We simply aren't ready for such a war." The rotund one spoke.

"I agree with Zhao Hao." An old looking man in a shrill voice said. "This seems, on a whole, an unnecessary endeavor considering what Prince Schneizel has promised us.

"Empty words. We need assurance." Gao Hai said. "Besides, if we take Japan, we'll all be kings in our own right. Then there'll be no need to give in to his demands."

"Gao Hai is correct. The plan must push forward. We'll deliver the bomb to the agents within the week."

* * *

"I really don't understand why we have to keep an eye on the maid." carped a dark skinned girl to her dark haired friend. She continued with more than a hint of condescenscion in her tone. "Of what worth could she possibly be?"

Her comrade rolled her eyes theatrically. "You shouldn't underestimate her. She's one of the Ashford's oldest servants and these maids know a lot more than you think." She admonished with an undertone of sagely wisdom that came only with the years. "The walls have ears, Dalque."

"But she got sent away, Sancia!" protested Dalque, face long and lips pouting. "To look after a cripple, no less."

"The girl may have some value to us as a hostage. They wouldn't send away someone as skilled as this Shinozaki character unless it was important." said Sancia as she peered at the girl through her binoculars. "Just be patient a while longer. The boss says we'll be able to nab her soon."

"And the cripple?"

"She'll need an incentive to talk."

Dalque licked her lips predatorily, a psychotic gleam in her eye. "Excellent."

* * *

**_November 21, 2017 (Z Day + 52)  
Algiers, Area 17_**

"How the hell is he doing this?" Orion muttered, hands clenching the corners of his desk. "We've managed to keep him beaten for so long already…"

His…associate, a man with as many stars on his shoulders as he had fingers, was awfully taciturn. "I suspect," he began, breaking the Prince's reverie, "that it may have something to do with Prince Lelouch."

"Lelouch?" Orion repeated blankly, clearly not following. "What about him? He's a good tactician to be sure but what does that have to do with Altair?"

"Their movements, while never directly in conjunction, are too well timed to be coincidence. The 2nd Quebec conducts a flanking mission and forces a retreat just as the 16th Imperial pushes forward after weeks of inactivity?" He stroked his chin contemplatively. "Then they heard the NAL between them on the Trans-Atlantic? Either they are extremely lucky or…"

"Or they're in constant communication." finished Orion, eyes lighting up in sudden realization. "This presents a problem."

"They need to be taken care of." The general agreed. "Before they overtake us."

Orion drew a sharp breath, giving him a worried look. "Are you suggesting we assassinate them?"

"There are...alternatives to kill them without dirtying our own hands." The general said solemnly, face set in a grim expression. "I assure you, it will be perfectly legal. The siege of Tunis is about to begin and we'll have several opportunities to achieve our objectives."

"Nothing gets back to us, understood?" Orion instructed.

"Of course, Your Highness." The general agreed. "My friends and I have a vested interest in remaining alive as well."

"Your friends…you never did say how many friends it is you actually have."

The general frowned. "Our faction does not like to publicize our existence. Rest assured that our goals, nonetheless, remain united."

"For now, you mean." Orion muttered, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Very well, Field Marshall, get it done."

* * *

Pendragon was created to be the "perfect" city; the pinnacle of Britannian Neo-Classical architecture.

The hundred plus team had been sure to use monumental Corinthian columns, pearly white walls, high, domed ceilings and all manners of architectural elements. Each building was created to be a masterpiece in and of itself, the attention to detail simply exquisite. From the air, one would be greeted with the sight of an incredible city pattern with buildings designed to be a piece of the larger puzzle.

Everything about the city was made to elicit awe and wonder from its denizens.

The Imperial Palace lay at the city's heart and all other things radiated from it in symmetrical order. In all of its grandeur, opulence and majesty, it would be easy for someone to ignore the relatively nondescript eight-point building with a smaller layer on top of the large base. Critics called it an unremarkable piece in the otherwise brilliant city.

Analysts would smile and murmur "That's the point" behind closed doors.

The Imperial Joint Command Center, or really just the Octagon for short, was the Joint Chief of Staff's Headquarters and the heart of the Army's Officer Corps. It was the single largest concentration of high ranking military personnel in the Empire and if anyone ever wanted to disrupt the Armed Forces, this was the place to hit. Unfortunately for Britannia's foes, they'd likely be caught, tortured and killed before they set foot in Britannia proper – the new homeland of the Empire that was the 13 original colonies.

Grand Duke of Panama Sebastian White, Chief Marshall of the Britannian Army and one of the Joint Chiefs, gave a cordial nod to his counterparts in the Air Force and Navy respectively, before taking his seat.

"What a mighty fine mess we're in." The Lord Air Marshall started. "Damn Euros pushing us back at everywhere."

"Not quite everywhere, but an accurate summation of the situation." Jonathan Grass, Commandant of the Colonial Guard, replied in a posh accent that spoke of his upbringing.

The Commandant of the Marine Corps gave them a blank look, entirely unaffected. Sebastian envied him right now. The Marines were the most unaffected branch of service and had the least amount of blame to shoulder for their current predicament.

"We've managed to gain some ground in Russia though." offered Sebastian soothingly, one of the few optimists in the pessimistic bunch. "And both Zhukov and Rommel have been halted."

"At the cost of our African possessions." countered the Vice Chairman with a scowl. "Area 17 and 18 are practically in a state of siege. Area 16 is under attack by the Central African Union and getting pushed back systematically."

"Not to mention the Mediterranean Fleet suffered crippling losses against the EU's 3rd Fleet. I've got reports that the 4th and 5th are in the Red Sea. If they break out into the Indian Ocean, our Pacific Fleets could be flanked."

"Can't we block them?" Grass asked with a frown.

Martin Amos, the Lord High Admiral, shook his head despondently. "The Pacific Fleets are busy as it is. I've got reports of increased Federation naval activities near Area 11. To pull them away would be inviting an attack."

"We may not have a choice." The Vice Chairman butted in once more. "If we leave the EU alone, we'll definitely be seeing disruption of trade, something that the Prime Minister warned us about. Besides, the Colonial Guard in Area 11 is one of the strongest."

"That's true enough." Grass confirmed with a boasting nod. "Areas 9 through 15 have just been reinforced by the 8th and 12th Armies too." Those Areas were the Empire's holdings in the Pacific. Specifically, it referred to the lands formerly known as New Zealand, Australia, Japan, Philippines, Indonesia, Papua New Guinea and the Pacific Islands…in that order. "The 15th should is on standby in Sydney if additional forces become necessary."

"We're not dealing with just land here. Area 11 is important because of the sakuradite more than anything else. Preventing disruption of supply is a top priority for us and that means no invasions."

"But without threats pointed to our Merchant Fleets, we'd be unable to get the sakuradite anywhere anyways. That's disruption of supply right there."

"We exist in a state of war with the EU, but not the Federation." The Chairman said calmly, speaking at last after his colleagues' had vocalized their opinions. "Our job right now is to safeguard the Empire's interest and that means, currently, clamping down on the EU. We'll just have to cross the bridge with the Federation when we get there."

Sebastian dearly hoped they wouldn't regret this choice in the future. He sincerely doubted it though.

* * *

**_Japanese Liberation Front (JLF) Headquarters, Narita Mountains, Area 11  
_  
**"The Yamato Alliance reports that they are ready."

"Same goes for the Blood of the Samurai."

Kyoshiro Tohdoh nodded. With those two rebel factions working with the JLF, they now had an extensive force to call on. Their backers had increased their funding in the past few months and several "confiscated" weapons found their way into their hands. The three largest rebel groups were now working together. "What of the infiltration teams?"

"They are in place. No problems reported…but sir, are we sure of this weapon we're using? It could be disastrous if it doesn't work."

"We must persevere." Tohdoh said with conviction, though he shared his subordinate's sentiments. "The Federation has assured us of its reliability and we can but trust them in this regard. We have no choice."

* * *

**_November 23, 2017 (Z Day + 54)  
Tunis, Tunisia, Area 17_**

"Commence the assault."

The three words, spoken softly, still carried itself with authority. The room buzzed to life as a cacophony of voices wafted through the air in response. Crackling thunder roared in the distance as artillery began their barrage of destruction against the city of Tunis. Tanks could be seen passing by, ready to provide support to the lumbering Bamides while close quarter combat Knightmares, the fabled Gardemares, flexed their joints in anticipation of the urban fighting to come.

"Concentrate fire on Sector 1. Bring down their defenses."

A wing of fighter-bombers screeched overhead, their scorn acting as an invisible barrier against the SAMs that rose from the city like the tentacles of an octopus. Once in a while, a few would dip temptingly low, mocking the creatures beneath before unleashing hellfire onto them in righteous judgment. The speed at which they flew in prevented them from being hit, even exposed as they were.

A glass-shattering explosion rocked the earth, as if the Titans had finally decided to rise up or Vesuvius's wrath had been unleashed once more. The men's ragged cheers outside could be recognized from inside the somewhat cracked, sound proof windows, baying for fire and blood.

Hovering above them was the Reaper, rubbing his hands in glee of the slaughter to come.

"Walls are down. We have a breach!"

The Commander frowned, disappointed by the bloodthirsty savages his trained soldiers had transformed into. Discipline would be difficult to maintain if he proceeded, but his orders were clear. Tunis must fall.

"Forward."

Outside, the men stormed the city with a bloodcurdling roar in response to the order that had just barely been received. With no fear left for their enemies, they broke out into a run across the relatively flat landscape, never stopping even as shrapnel, bullets, mortar and missiles cut them down like insects. They were a relentless hoard, an unstoppable wave of fury comparable to nature's dreaded Tsunami.

The Commander's frown, if at all possible, sank even lower, dragging his features down in an unpleasant manner. He would likely lose more men in the unruly crowd's mad dash than he would throughout the remaining duration of the battle.

"Walls have been breached! We're pushing the Britannians back."

Erwin Rommel leaned into his seat, no signs of pleasure in his eyes as the EU's flag rose atop the battlements in the distance. The battle had yet to be won, but at least the first step had been accomplished.

The Siege of Tunis had begun.

* * *

"We should be out there fighting." Suzaku scowled from his comfortable spot inside a reinforced bunker.

"The Prince ordered us stay here." replied a bored Kenji, stealing a glance form his wristwatch as if in anticipation of…something. "Besides, your Argyl got trashed. How exactly are you going to fight?"

"I'm a soldier with or without my Knightmare." Suzaku shot back, his eyes never leaving the developing battlefield outside. "I can fight just as well either way."

"That's a lie and you know it." Kenji said, lying down on his bunk. "You're an ace, Suzaku. Gottwald might not say it, the Prince might not say it, but everyone knows it's true. Your life would be a waste if thrown away on a simple urban skirmish."

Suzaku had no answer for him, a state he found himself in increasingly and growled instead. There was a knock on the door that caused Kenji to shoot up like a rocket, body tensing in anticipation. The sudden motion had caused the bunk to creak in protest even as Suzaku turned around to see who had arrived. They were in a secured location, after all, so it was unlikely that just anyone could walk in to say hi.

"Who is it?" Suzaku asked, unable to get a clear look as Kenji's body blocked most of the doorway.

Kenji left his question unanswered. He simply said "It is time," before turning around to reveal two men in Britannian uniforms flanking another in an officer's one.

Suzaku gave them a curious look. The uniforms were familiar, but the faces wearing them weren't. The men seemed to be of African descent and to his knowledge they hadn't any locals conscripted into the regiment. Perhaps they were from the other regiments? The figure in the middle was one he recognized as Gunter Baldwin, the late Thomas Baldwin's cousin, assigned to Colonel Altair nu Britannia's regiment. It further reinforced his theory that the two Africans were from another regiment.

"What can I do for you, Colonel?" Suzaku asked politely, saluting in greeting.

"I have a message from His Highness, Prince Altair Britannia, to Prince Lelouch." He said plainly. "Where is he?"

Suzaku's face scrunched up in confusion. "Why wouldn't you know where he is?"

"Unfortunately, we've lost contact. We suspect that the EU might be deploying jamming equipment on the field or that his command bunker has been compromised. Either situation is…undesirable and must be rectified."

Suzaku nodded with concerned eyes. Lelouch was in trouble. "Of course, he's in Sector 4. I can bring you to him." He offered, and the group stepped out of the room, free from the surveillance camera. "How goes the battle?"

"Not good." Gunter said grimly. "The walls have been breached and we suspect that there is a plot among the residents to launch disruptive activities."

"You mean attacking our command?"

Gunter nodded. "Exactly, and that is why it is imperative that-"

"Come in, Kururugi." The group froze as Suzaku reached for his radio.

"This is Private Kururugi, Sir Gottwald." Suzaku answered.

"You've left your post, Kururugi. Explain yourself!" Gottwald barked angrily.

"I'm-"

Bang!

The radio cluttered to the ground with a bullet sized hole through it, making it an unusable piece of junk. Suzaku jumped back in shock as it was torn from his hand, and glared at the Lieutenant…only to find it wasn't he who had fired, though his gun was drawn.

"Sorry, Suzaku. I'm afraid I can't let the _honorable_ Sir Gottwald interfere any longer." Kenji said in a disturbingly cheerful tone as he holstered his pistol.

"What's going on." demanded Suzaku, fists clenched and ready to fly.

"What we should have done a long time ago. It's time the world realized that the Numbers aren't down just yet." Kenji said. "What we do here will be a blow for all those under Britannia's tyranny, Japan included."

"You're a traitor!" Suzaku said, moving forward to apprehend him if not for the two assault rifles that suddenly threatened to split him open. "You're all traitors."

Kenji titled his head, a mirthful smile on his lips. "Technically, Abdul," he gestured to the African on his right, "and his men aren't. They're NAL so they're not breaking any vows."

Suzaku turned to glare at Gunter accusingly. "What about you? You're Britannian! Why are you helping them?"

"Because the Prince killed my cousin!" Gunter snarled back. "And I'm not going to take that lying down. The Nobles have treated my family like shit for years because we're a 'minor barony'. Well, fuck them and the almighty royal family. Baldwin's stick together."

"You would condemn your entire family to death for your own actions?" Suzaku argued, his mind racing to formulate a way to get away and warn his friend.

Gunter smirked. "They already know. " Suzaku recoiled in surprise at the admission. "Don't look at me like that. The Prince might be a royal, but he's got plenty of enemies. Certainly more of them than those he calls friends."

"But the question here should be why you fight for the Prince, Suzaku. You're nothing but a chess piece to him." Kenji continued.

"You're wrong!" Suzaku protested weakly. "I'm his friend."

"But he doesn't see you as a friend, does he?" Kenji's brows waggled. "After all, he's practically ignored you the entire time we've been here. He hasn't even given you so much as a 'hello' since he met with us. All our instructions go through Gottwald."

"I-" The words died on his lips, as the Japanese boy realized his words were technically true. "He's just been busy."

"Face it, Kururugi. You're a pawn. We Japanese can never be friends with these Britannian dogs. Even those of us who submit to their ways are treated like trash!" He gave him a cold stare. "We are Japanese, Suzaku! Help me avenge our people. Help me fulfill your father's last command."

_"I call for do or die resistance! Japan shall fall after its last son has fallen, its last bullet fired and its last building burned!" _

The words of his late father resounded in his mind…and he remembered why he fought, he remembered why he _killed _for Britannia. It was for his country. It was for Japan.

"No!" Suzaku shouted. "If we do this, we condemn Japan to an even worse fate. Millions will die in retribution. This isn't the way to change things!"

"The only way to change Britannia is through force. Violence is the only thing they respect!" Kenji screamed back, even as his three compatriots shuffled nervously. "What worse fate can befall our enslaved nation? We've prostrated ourselves to the Britannians and still they want more!"

"Pride is not more important than survival!"

"A life without Honor is worthless!" spat Kenji. "Colonel Tohdoh understood that. Prime Minister Kururugi understood that."

"This is pointless, Kenji. He's not going to turn." Gunter snapped. "We're running out of time."

"Fine." Kenji sighed, giving Suzaku a sad glance as if he were someone he wanted to save.

Smack!

Suzaku felt his body fall helplessly from the lightning fast strike of Kenji's baton. His head slammed into the metal floor hard, and he found his body becoming increasingly unresponsive to his frantic thoughts. Warm liquid started to pool around him, he realized.

"Why didn't you just kill him?"

"He's Japanese." Kenji responded, as if that was answer enough. Gunter's eyes narrowed angrily, but he made no sound in protest. "Are the men in position, Abdul?"

"Of course they are." Abdul bristled.

"And Gunter, the bomb?"

"It's ready."

"Then let's go. It's time we paid the Prince his just desserts."

And for Suzaku, the world turned into oblivion.

* * *

_"On the year 1871, the Holy Britannian Empire was a fledgling state, having just suffered the humiliation the loss of the homeland – the British Isles. They were surrounded on all sides by enemies. In the vast American heartland were the native Indian tribes, eager to end the White Menace that had plagued their lands. To the north was Area 2 (Canada) which then was still a colony under the traitorous Lords of Parliament that had bowed their heads to their French masters. Lying in wait within the Caribbean was a formidable Spanish Armada that was not all too pleased with the new threat and even further south was the Portuguese Protectorate, Brazil. _

_The coffers were barely breaking even, as the Imperialists had to drain it to escape the predatory French Atlantic Fleets. The Army was in disarray after the war with France and most of the Navy had turned a life of piracy. The only thing the Empire had was the utmost loyalty of its remaining subjects. Things couldn't be bleaker for the Empire. _

_Britannia, bitter from their loss, exile and humiliation, fully embraced the national ethos of Revanchism. Commoners and Nobles alike sought for the restoration of the Empire and their Manifest Destiny, but the government found itself incapable of fulfilling their wishes._

_In his infinite wisdom, the 91st Emperor, Ricardo von Britannia, made a deal with the remnants of the Aristocracy. He gathered the Nobles before him in the new capital, Pendragon, and uttered his famous phrase. 'To gain anything, you must risk everything.' It was an event forever remembered as the 'Noble Commission'. _

_In exchange for monetary support to the Throne, the Nobles would be allowed to levy their own personal armies and conduct independent campaigns with the Crown's Mandate. They would arm, pay and feed their men from their own hands, but would be allowed to keep 4/5 of the spoils of war. Their powers also increased such that any Noble could grant a lower peerage to a Commoner with the approval of the Crown. _

_Thus, the legacy of the Sworn Regiments began." _

_-excerpt from: A Narrative of Imperial History by Thaddeus Jackson_

_ "The system of the Sworn Regiments has many advantages to it. _

_First, it was complimentary of the Imperial Government's Doctrine of Factionalism. It furthered the gap between the various Regiments already within the Army by making them answerable to different groups. Regiments without a Sponsor were under the nominal authority of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (JOCS), while the Sworn Regiments were directly under their Nobles. This Doctrine, as has been explained in plenty of previous papers, has been remarkably effective in ensuring the loyalty of the Army as a whole ultimately rests with the Monarchy. _

_Second, it was financially sound. With the Nobles supplying the upkeep necessary to run a Regiment (not mere pocket change to be certain), it allowed for the Treasury to allocate funds towards other pressing issues. These were different from Mercenaries because of one key difference though. The Sworn Regiments, while not technically answerable to the JCOS, was still answerable to the Imperial Throne and subject to the Army's rules. _

_Third, it allowed for a Balance of Power. In the rapidly changing power dynamics and political arena of Britannia, Military Power remained to be a stabilizing measure to protect certain interests from total exploitation. Most notably, it was a way for the Aristocracy to defend themselves from the Throne and maintain a semblance of independence._

_Fourth was protection. With the Nobility often granted lands in the Areas, the threat of local insurrection remained to be a very real threat. The Empire could only get involved at the request of a Noble, and even that was of no guarantee during periods of internal strife. In order to maintain order in the fiefs, Nobles were allowed to use their Regiments as a police force during armed insurrection. _

_Of course, there were also limitations to this power as the Throne was wary of potential abuse. Below are the so called 10 Commandments: _

_1. __A Sworn Regiment, while directly under their Sponsor, was still encouraged to listen to the JCOS and still part of the Army.  
__2. __A Sworn Regiment was forbidden to wage independent campaigns without the Crown's written and expressed approval. __3. __A Sworn Regiment was forbidden to oppose the Army, the Government or other Sworn Regiments, even at the behest of their Sponsors (see Dueling).  
__4. __A Sworn Regiment was forbidden to interfere in civilian matters except within the Fief of their Sponsor, and only then for matters concerning public peace.  
__5. __A Sworn Regiment was subject to the Crown's scrutiny and the Army's Code of Conduct, and its status could be revoked at the whim of the Emperor, the Knight of One, or by a JCOS Mandate of Insubordination.  
__6. __A Sponsor was limited to one (1) Regiment and the entire Nobility limited to Regiments equal to a third of the Britannian Army, pro rata to each army. They were forbidden to expand the numbers or equipment of a Regiment beyond the norm (refer to Britannian Field Manual).  
__7. __A Sworn Regiment was only granted when the following conditions were met: A. Crown's Approval, B. Regimental Approval (via vote in quorum), and C. Sponsor's Request.  
__8. __A Sworn Regiment's Command Structure was respected by the Army, but they were limited to a certain number of ranks. For example, a Regiment could not have more than 1 Colonel, 1 Lt. Colonel, 2 Majors, etc. etc. etc.  
__9. __Officers from Sworn Regiments were disbarred from the Right of Transfer unless they renounced their Oath in Public. Even then, they could still be refused the Right of Transfer at the accepting Commander's discretion.  
__10. __A Sworn Regiment's numbers were required to undergo a semiannual evaluation to ensure their quality of training. All new recruit had to be drawn from current soldiers or, if recruited directly, undergo official army training at a certified Army Training Center._

_Given these severe limitations, plus the cost of running one (est. minimum of Imperial Britannian Pounds 50 Million per year); it is hard not to see why the practice fell out of popularity. Only those with the rank of Marquess or higher could shoulder the cost during peace times. Currently, there is estimated to be less than 40 Sworn Regiments out of a total 759."_

_-excerpt from: "Sworn Regiments, an essay" by George Baltimore_

**AN: On the title: in Chess, a Closed game refers to one with few exchange of pieces. Instead, the focus is on positional play, pawn structures and rapid development. In contrast, an Open game is one where several pieces are exchanged and the board is relatively clear. This chapter was more of a filler and a developmental jump point for the next one, which will literally be jam packed with action as we explore the two parallel stories:**

**1) The Battle of Tunis**  
**2) The Japanese Rebellion**

**On the Sworn Regiments (SR), I sort of ripped the idea from the British Crown's system of sending out privateers to conduct wars for them. Also, seemed like a "logical" position to take considering Britannia's history in the beginning. Is it believable?**

**As for the OCs, I apologize for introducing several more but it was necessary considering what my story is trying to do (expand the CG universe). The normal canon characters simply don't cut it for my purposes. On the bright side, there will be considerably less OCs in the coming chapters as we bring back the old cast into the mix. **

**On Lelouch and Ryze's thoughts – I thought I owed you guys an in-depth explanation for the sudden 180 in Ryze and why Lelouch was able to take it in stride. I hope you liked his thoughts on the matter. **

**On China, we're seeing more global politics! Yeah? It just seems odd that they wouldn't be sending agents to meddle in Britannian affairs as I'm sure Britannia does it to them as well. The High Eunuchs might be conniving bastards, but they're not _stupid _conniving bastards. They would have had some sort of long term plan to keep themselves in power and that means espionage and striking at Britannia through other channels. **

**On the Areas: Central African Union and company, these are affiliated groups with the EU but not necessarily part of them yet (lack of economic and military integration). The EU being a democracy would be unlikely to embark on an Imperialistic route instead of deciding to "Spread" the "Democratic Ideals" which is what they did. They're exploitative and ridiculously capitalistic to be sure, but still hold the idea of self-governance to be sacred. (If they're anything like the current Democracies, they hold the illusion of it sacred at least). To the HBE and CF, it doesn't matter much, but there is a distinction to be made anyhow. **

**Thoughts in the Box and hit Send!  
**


	7. A Dead Draw

**AN: Chapter 7 is hereeeee! This was tough for me to write for some reason…**

**Chapter 7: A Dead Draw**

**_November 23, 2017 (Z Day + 54)  
16:30 (UTC + 1:00)_**

"K…"

"Ku…rug…"

"Kururugi!"

Suzaku's eyes snapped open, his body already moving to a sitting position, only to find that a familiar hand was keeping him down. Its owner was a fairly unpleasant sight to wake up to.

"Kururugi, mind explaining _why _you left your post and are, instead, here. Bleeding from the head, might I add?" Gottwald asked "sweetly."

Suzaku's hand shot up instinctively to feel the back of his skull. Instead of soft hair or warm blood, the sensation was that of smooth cloth. "Sirgottwaldyamashinahasbetrayedusheplansto-"

"Stop." Gottwald ordered in face of the indecipherable blabber, raising his palm in emphasis. "Breathe."

Suzaku's look screamed "Really?" but otherwise he complied and took a deep breath.

"Explain, slowly; preferably with periods and commas to punctuate your sentences." Gottwald requested sarcastically. "You do know what those are, right?"

"Sir, Yamashina has betrayed us. He's headed over to Lelouch's location now!" Suzaku blurted out hastily, though it was a vast improvement over his first attempt.

Gottwald frowned, whether in incomprehension of his rapidly spoken words or disapproval at his informal address for the Prince, Suzaku did not know.

"What do you mean Yamashina has betrayed us?" asked Gottwald, his frown further marring his features.

"Yamashina's plotting to kill the Prince at the bunker." Though the volume had decreased, Suzaku's voice retained the undertone of urgency to it. "He's got men with him too…Lieutenant Baldwin and some NAL soldiers in our uniforms."

"_What!_" roared Gottwald, his body already rising from its kneeling position.

"I'm coming with you." Suzaku said as he copied the knight's motion.

"No!" Jeremiah responded, a little too quickly to have _not _been an instinctive response. It spoke volumes about their relationship.

"I have just as much a duty to him as you!" Suzaku protested, refusing to be left behind, refusing to abandon his friend.

"You're injured. You'd be a liability." Gottwald countered pointedly.

"Then use me as a human shield or something." Suzaku said stubbornly, crossing his arms. "I'm not staying behind while my best friend is in danger."

Gottwald was taken aback by his response. He knew they were friends, but he didn't know they were _that _close.

"Fine," Gottwald barked. "But I'm leaving you behind if you slow me down."

If he was willing to die for the Prince, then maybe…_maybe_ he wouldn't be completely useless.

* * *

Lelouch scowled in displeasure as three more blinks ceased to transmit on his screen, signifying that the remnants of yet another armored group had been wiped out. He cursed as he realized it had contained the last Sovereign command vehicle, and its escort, that he had sent out as a decoy.

Damn it.

"We've lost Team 2." Lelouch pointed out to his colonel, the bitterness in his words evident by his face alone. "They were outmaneuvered."

"I'm surprised you managed to keep active for that long." Ryze noted, not appearing to be distressed in the slightest.

"Not long enough." answered the Prince with more than a little frustration. "We're down to two armored squadrons and one of those is in risk of being cut off from us."

Ryze sighed heavily, observing the screen with silent despondency. "Whoever's in command now must be particularly good. I'd say it was Rommel himself if he wasn't already a general."

"I'd love to meet him off the field one day." Lelouch said wistfully, an abrupt change of attitude that earned him a look from Ryze. "He's a master of maneuver warfare. Positioning troops is second nature to him."

The CO raised a brow at his subordinate. "You're a fan, I take it?"

"An advocate of his theories." corrected Lelouch. "His work on blitzkrieg was fascinating."

"You might get that chance soon," Ryze noted grimly, "since we're about to lose this battle."

Lelouch's frown returned as he focused on the screen and began issuing commands through his radio. Defeat was an altogether detestable concept to the chess prodigy. "Why do you think the EU has concentrated their troops on our sector?" He managed to interject in between orders.

"We haven't been pushed back as far as the other regiments." explained Ryze as he looked over his expanded tactical map in consternation. "We're the annoying splinter that refuses to be plucked. It's causing them a lot of trouble as their forces cannot push forward without fear of getting flanked by us."

"We're in the same danger though, as the case has shown." Lelouch said darkly as another dot faded to nothing. "That isolated squadron is going to need reinforcements if it's to hold out."

"You recommend they stand and fight?" Ryze asked incredulously. "They're already surrounded."

Lelouch gave him an indignant scoff. "I can win this."

"And if the enemy jams our communication, what then? Those men would be lost to us. I cannot, in good conscience, risk them so callously." Ryze answered. "Order the retreat.

A frustrated Lelouch grudgingly obeyed. "2nd and 4th Company, Troop 1 and 3 fall back to Sector 4. 1st Company and 5th Company, provide support from Sector 5. Troop 2, cover their six." A series of affirmatives answered him. The map flickered as the dots began to move in conjunction and the EU's small flanking force was overrun easily. Ryze watched with him with regard as he quickly and efficiently organized the retreat.

"We're not going to win by playing defense all the time! As the vile Napoleon once said, 'the attack is the best form of defense.'" Lelouch complained, still unwilling to back down from his position despite having already ordered the withdrawal.

"You'd do well to learn that some casualties are unacceptable even for victory." Ryze said with a shake of his head. "And really? First Rommel, now Napoleon…if I didn't know any better I'd say you were going to defect any day." Ryze said the last part with a hint of mirth.

Watching them banter was a chuckling, happy go lucky Eric Maximillan, who stood in stark contrast to the impassive vigilance of the two guards flanking him. A red and black band was looped around each shoulder in display, as if a badge of honor.

Then again, it likely was.

From what Ryze understood, the two were members of the 3rd Battalion's 1st Company, under the direct command of one Sergeant Victor Wolfe. The platoon to which they belonged had an exceptional record in their brief time of deployment, having been directly involved in several stunning victories. The officers held them in high regard, and to the men, their presence on the field was practically an assurance of triumph. When placed in reserve or asked to pull back, it often meant that they were preparing to initiate a winning move.

It wasn't hard to see why they were special. A brief look into their history showed the group to have been the one directly under the Prince during his time in Montreal. The respect which most people held for royalty turned into awe as he entered their midst, treating each as his own. Then the awe became fevered loyalty as he gave them one success after another. Finally, it transformed into full blown fanaticism as this phenomena was translated into actual battlefield results. Their history together made them the most ardent supporters of the Prince, and each member held an unshakeable confidence in their leader.

In whatever Lelouch decided, these men would be the first to stand by him. They had become his guards in all but name, with all of them volunteering to take shifts protecting such a beloved individual from his various enemies, within and without. Their direct superiors agreed with their actions, seeing as the officers had trained with the Prince as well, and the regimental staff did not have the heart - or courage - to reprimand them for periodically rotating men out of the front without authorization.

They had fought and bled for him. They would have died for him too if he wasn't so damn good at micromanagement.

"There's nothing wrong with learning from the enemy." Lelouch said with an unapologetic shrug. "And you cannot deny that Europe has produced some of the finest military minds next to our own."

His colleague was saved from answering when the bunker's reinforced doors opened with a loud clang as steel met steel. "Kenji?" Lelouch, quite bewildered, recognized one of his devicers. "What are y-"

Lelouch didn't get to finish as he was forcefully dragged down by Maximillan behind a steel table, just as a wave of bullets passed where his chest had once been. Ryze was beside him not a moment later, instincts at work. His age still showed as a piece of steel had bit his arm from his second late reaction, resulting in a steady gush of blood from an otherwise nonlethal wound.

A brief, but rapid exchange of gunfire occurred between the two guards, who had placed themselves as human shields for the three against the band of assassins. Despite their valiant show, they were inevitably cut down, but not before bringing three - half the group - with them to the afterlife. All of that had happened in the span of three seconds, barely enough time for Lelouch to gather his wits.

"You need to get out of here, sir!" Maximillan shouted over the rhythmic buzz of the guns, confident that his message wouldn't be overheard given the noise screening it. His normally cheerful demeanor wiped away by a hardened and grim expression. "I'll cover you!"

Ryze withdrew his officer's handgun, lips set in a determined line. "You need to live, Lelouch."

"I'm not leaving you two behind!" Lelouch shot back, gun in hand and face mirroring theirs.

"Listen to me! You need to take command of the regiment!"

"But-"

"You're the only one who beat Rommel at his own game!" Ryze found himself saying. Strangely enough, he believed his words and felt at ease with the possibility that their roles might one day be reversed. Sure the boy could use more experience, but he had a brilliant mind. One that Ryze would be hard pressed to beat on his best day.

Lelouch was dumbfounded, gaping at his CO stupidly even as bullets ricocheted off of their cover.

The Prince looked as if he wanted to protest, so Ryze continued before he could find his voice. "Like it or not, you're used to being the underdog and still coming out on top. Every major battle you've faced has been in similar conditions, even if not in as grand a scale. Those wins you pull out of a hat regularly are ones even I'm hard pressed to do. You've come a long way since you landed, My Prince."

Ryze gave Maximillan a nod, signaling him to do what was necessary. "Now go and live, that's an order!" His tone left no room for hesitation. He smirked as he tensed in anticipation of his chance to escape. "Besides, I doubt I'll ever get my promotion if you get killed under my watch." He smirked, joking for one last time.

Then, as if by some unspoken agreement, the three rose. Two of them began to unleash their own barrage of steel death while the other made a break for the door.

"I won't let you down sir." Lelouch whispered in promise, barely audible and elicited a genuine smile from his friend.

"I know you won't." But he was already out of earshot. "Bring it you bastards!" He shouted, firing wildly into the enemy mass, temporarily suppressing them so that Lelouch could escape safely.

"We've got the intel already. Cut off their communications!" barked Kenji as he saw what occurred. "I'll take care of the Prince." He backpedalled through the door they came, no doubt to try and cut off the Prince, and left two of his men to finish the job. Even so, the colonel and the private were still outgunned. A lucky shot managed to nick Eric in the shoulder, followed by another one a few inches below.

Based on the sound of erratic gasps, Ryze knew the wounds would kill without treatment.

Still, he didn't get to the rank of colonel by his good looks alone. He flung his now empty pistol at one of them, lulling the assaulters into a sense of overconfidence now that he was unarmed. Ducking as he was, Ryze was still able to pinpoint their location by the sound of their oncoming footsteps.

Once one of them was close enough to his corner, he sprung into action. His right foot shot out to sweep the man's legs, dropping him to the floor swiftly, as he leapt on his enemy and followed through with a powerful haymaker that would've made Mohammed Ali proud. Ryze winced as he felt the bullet lodged in his left arm dig deeper in protest of his sudden movement, but strived to work through the pain. He grabbed the unconscious man's rifle and made quick work of the other, who had his back towards him for some reason.

His face turned ashen as he saw why. On top of the table was a cylindrical device that could only be a bomb.

3…2…1…

He closed his eyes in quiet resignation of his fate, glad that he had at least done his part to ensure the Prince's survival. There was a loud whir as it activated and he waited for the heat to cremate his body.

Dying was a surprisingly quiet affair after the initial explosion. Hopefully, Heaven would be just as calming. It was also relatively painless, except for the pain in his side that would not go away, much to his chagrin.

His eyes flew open. Why could he still feel pain if he was dead?

The answer, of course, was that he wasn't. His eyes, with disbelief apparent in them, glanced at the bomb to find that it had indeed activated properly, despite the fact that the container had not disintegrated.

"S-sir….are w-we d-dead?" Eric managed to say in between pained breaths.

"Afraid not." replied Ryze. "Whatever the bomb was, it looks like it fried our equipment."

A quick scan of the room showed the equipment smoking as its internal parts burned. Electricity would crackle occasionally in brief showers of blinding sparks. The colonel sighed and searched the dead man, only to be rewarded by a cigarette and a lighter.

Thank God smoking didn't require electricity. Normally, Ryze did not smoke unless the occasion demanded it but…

He took a long drag, inhaling the nicotine greedily as it gave him some temporary relief, before blowing it out with a huff, shuddering from the pleasure it gave him. "You want one?" He asked, offering one to the downed and dying man.

Maximillan gave him a weak grin. "N-never a-actually tried one of t-t-these before." He struggled to say before letting the colonel place the burning poison in his mouth tentatively.

Ryze smiled as the private coughed; a predictable reaction for first timers. He quickly went to work bandaging both their wounds. "Looks like we're going to have to sit tight for a while. No doubt someone will come looking for us soon enough." He said, finishing up with the stopgap first aid to control the sporadic bleeding.

The colonel took another long drag from his own cigarette and collapsed to the floor in his weakened state.

He was getting too old for this shit.

His eyes snapped around and his ears perked. "Colonel!"

* * *

**_Tokyo Concession, Area 11_**

A small procession of assorted vehicles sped through the deserted streets of midnight Tokyo, completely ignoring trivialities such as traffic lights. At this time of night, it wasn't as if there was anyone who would stop them.

Not that anyone could, of course.

The insignia boldly emblazoned on the cars marked them as the Viceroy's personal transport. The bright, bordering blinding, pearl and gold which served as the motif was designed specifically to draw attention to the group. It was not unlike a male peacock showing off his feathers really.

Inside one of the limos, Clovis observed the roads through bleary eyes, struggling against the inevitable weight on his eyelids. He had just finished a grueling session with the NAC, Area 11's largest sakuradite refining company. It also happened to be controlled by Eleven collaborators and suspected terrorist sympathizers. It meant that each meeting could be described with one distinct word.

Tedious.

Every little word, every agonizing detail in the contract had been triple checked by _two _teams of lawyers. This was followed by the drafting of proposals, counterproposals and counter-counterproposals, all of which was in legal jargon, with the mandatory odd Latin phrase thrown in occasionally. The double-talk had served to blunt the Prince's mind as he was compelled to endure their overly complicated, professional vernacular that doubled up as a torturous endurance exercise.

It had all been worth it though, as he left the talks with his objective secured. In the end, the NAC acquiesced to his demands for increased production in exchange for a lowering their tax per barrel. The thought of what he had given up created a crease in his elegant physiognomy. Clovis let loose an obnoxious yawn, snuggling into his seat to find a more comfortable position. His buttocks were still a little numb from his earlier activities.

Abruptly and without warning, the limo screeched to a halt, nearly sending its passenger through the windshield as it did.

"What the hell is wrong with you!?" Clovis was about to snarl, before a thunderclap exploded in his periphery. The deafening shriek that followed only served to reinforce his fears.

This was an assassination attempt.

"Keep moving!" screeched the guard beside the driver. "We must get His Highness to safety!"

Hours of servitude kicked in as the man instinctively obeyed, stepping hard on the accelerator. Another limo, one of his three decoys, crashed into the sidewalk. The soldiers inside all dead if the bullet sized holes that littered the windows were anything to go by. The apartment near the car, unfortunately, suffered extensive damage as well. No doubt more than a few civilians had been killed, caught up in the crossfire.

"This is Stoke, we need backup! Prince Clovis is under attack!" the guard yelled into a radio, presumably contacting the Tokyo military installation. "What do you mean you can't?"

Clovis eyes snapped open, any thoughts of sleep banished, and he snatched the communicator from his lackey angrily. "This is Clovis la Britannia, Third Prince of the Empire, Viceroy of Area 11 _and _the final authority on all domestic military affairs." He said crisply, each honorific serving to further cow its listener into following his next instruction without question. "If you don't get me some knightmares _right now_ I'll have all of you executed for assisting regicide!"

There was a brief silence in which Clovis suspected the men were consulting with each other, before the radio started emitting once more. "Your Highness, I am Brigadier General Wells. I've mobilized all available forces to assist you."

"Just send me the goddamn knightmares!"

"Unfortunately, we've got none available right now." The general answered remorsefully. "But I've contacted the Special Units about the situation."

"You've got over two hundred fucking frames in your base, and you can't even send me a squad?" Clovis asked frostily, promising to have the incompetent commander hanged for this. Good help was so hard to find these days.

"Rebel agents managed to infiltrate our holding bay and activated, what we suspect, is an EMP. Most of our frames had their systems fried. Engineers report it will be another hour to get the first batch battle ready."

"Fine!" snapped Clovis, "We're going to have words about this, General." He promised, and the General audibly gulped in anticipation of retribution.

He would have to make it out alive in the first place, of course.

The limo, with great difficulty, managed to weave past the burning remnants of their escorts, even as chaos erupted around them. Heavy gunfire rained down on them from the windows above, seemingly in all directions, while the occasional RPG would strike a car, setting it ablaze. In the span of 36 seconds exactly, most of the convoy had been massacred ruthlessly and efficiently.

It was a miracle Clovis survived and managed to get out of the kill zone in time. "We should be safe now, Your Highness." said the guard, relief obvious in his voice. Trailing behind was the only other group of survivors in an SUV.

"You spoke too soon." muttered Clovis, as he looked at the side mirror worriedly. Springing out of the smoke and debris was a triad of modified Glasgows – the resistance's famous Burai model. It left no doubt that the attack was conducted by the JLF, or, at the very least, supported by them.

The Prince swore bloody vengeance for the umpteenth time that minute as the driver swerved 'round a corner without braking, promptly slamming him into one end then the other as his body struggled against inertia.

Behind them, the SUV escort was gone, crushed by a giant three-fingered claw attached to the mecha by a surprisingly elastic steel chain and another half dozen men ferried to the afterlife.

"Oh God…" Fear was apparent in Clovis' trembling demeanor as he watched the Burais give chase. Another of the machines released its retractable claw, steel grip soaring through the air, threatening and graceful at the same time. The slash harken looked as if the grim reaper himself was coming for the doomed men.

An ominous crunch signaled it had made contact with the car, the appendage biting like a fanged snake and with enough speed to be one too. The limo stopped moving though its wheels rotated at breakneck speeds, but had no visible effects aside from the skid marks beneath. The driver's desperate actions became truly futile as the vehicle's rear became inclined; the pilot now making use of the weapon's retracting function.

Just as suddenly, the deformed hull hit the ground with an ugly sound.

An unknown model towered over them protectively, resembling a mother covering her child. The frame's sister, falling recklessly from a VTOL model that was larger than the standard gunship, had landed on one of the Burais, dislocating the shoulders and uniting body with the asphalt. The knightmare rifle was already unleashing a steady stream of armor piercing rounds, easily dispatching the surprised opponents with twin explosions that incinerated them.

Their savior's cockpit unlatched, pushing the pod backwards and jutting out of the machine's chest. Clovis rubbed his eyes and blinked twice at the sight to make sure his vision was clear.

Their rescuer…was a girl? A teenage one, no less! Make no mistake, Britannia did not discriminate based on gender, but there was something about the situation that inexplicably irked the Prince's masculinity.

"Prince Clovis," the blonde began with a tone of utmost reverence, "Britannian Special Honorary Foreign Legion reporting for duty!"

* * *

"That's odd." General Erwin Rommel muttered to no one in particular, as he surveyed the battlefield display. More specifically, he was observing a particular sector of the city whose defenses had held out despite reports indicating that it was, supposedly, the weak link. The commander in charge of the men there had put up a commendable effort, managing to stop a force almost thrice his through the brilliant use of positioning and maneuvering.

It had taken his personal intervention to finally seal the deal and catch them in a net.

To the unknown commander's credit, his men had reacted quickly, breaking out almost as soon as they had been surrounded and Rommel had been prepared for another grueling battle of attrition to take place as the 4th Brigade prepared to test their enemies once more...

Only for them to find that the enemy lines were in disarray. It was a complete turnabout from the skilled defense minutes ago, lacking the finesse and surgical precision that was his adversary's style. The enemy had moved with such coordination and drive, knowing where to go and what to do. Now? They seemed to be struggling to even coordinate their actions.

It was as if the commander had suddenly…disappeared.

The very thought brought a frown to Rommel's face. He hadn't ordered an assassination and, to his knowledge, neither had the Military Intelligence Directorate.

So what the hell was going on?

He couldn't help but feel that there was _something_ at work here. Rommel scanned the map once more with an uneasy frown. He did not like being kept in the dark, but he had a job to do.

Tentatively, he gave the order for the Brigade to attack, a sinking feeling in his gut that he had just made a terrible mistake pushing into the most heavily urbanized zone of the city.

In the horizon, the last of Day's strength gave ground to the might of its eternal rival.

* * *

"I don't like this sir." confided the Colonel to his superior. "The Chinese are far too secretive to be trusted."

"Your suspicions are not unreasonable, Colonel Tohdoh," The general replied as he fingered the katana still sheathed by his side, "but we have come too far to turn back now."

"But General Katase, we've yet to receive word of Tokyo group's success!" protested Tohdoh heatedly. "Without the Viceroy's death, it is unlikely that there will be sufficient chaos for us secure Kyushu!"

A man with spiked black hair leaned against the wall, hands laxly pocketed. For a military man, he was strangely out of uniform and informal in manner. "Thankfully, we have an ace in the hole." Tohdoh gave the other man a questioning look, while Katase nodded sharply, urging him to go on. "The Federation has been kind enough to give us a replica of their EMP."

Tohdoh's eyes widened at the implications. "Such a device would allow us to neutralize Miyazaki easily, General Taito!" He exclaimed, awe in his voice. He had witnessed firsthand the weapon's power and his analytical mind had already thought of several dozen ways it could be useful.

"Exactly, Colonel. As we speak, our agents have already found a suitable location to plant it in. It will make your mission infinitely easier. A surgical strike on Miyazaki will cripple the military here, given that most of the Britannian Army's assets are stationed in Hokkaido and Honshu. The former is too far to hinder us; the latter is in disarray because of the first bomb." continued Katase with a schoolmaster's lecturing tone.

"Additionally, our allies will begin predetermined attacks on several key locations to further the chaos in the mainland." added the other general. "We expect that it will take at least a week for them to deal with these other threats."

"More than enough time to take the island." Tohdoh concluded, his eyes lighting up in realization as the final pieces of the puzzle were laid out before him.

"As you can see, Colonel, the Viceroy's death is no longer integral to our plans. It would be a boon, yes, but not essential." Katase said, before taking a sip of his tea. "Now, while you are bust with the military base we'll need someone to take command the force tasked with capturing the city. Lt. Col. Kusakabe is next in line to you, correct?"

Tohdoh's frown was not lost on his two commanding officers. "That is correct, sir." He answered curtly, nevertheless.

"You disapprove?" Taito asked, brows arching up in question.

"No disrespect to Kusakabe's skills as a tactician, sir. He is a very capable commander, but he is too blinded by hate for the Britannians and I am…uneasy of putting him in such a sensitive role where he will undoubtedly have to deal with them. I have my reservations if he can keep calm in such a role." Tohdoh's lips pursed as he chose his next words.

"He may do something rash…something that we will regret later on."

* * *

Orion watched impassively as plumes of smoke loomed ominously over the sky. With the sun long gone, it was difficult to make them out.

"Sir, shouldn't we advance to aid the defenders?" The aide beside him shuffled nervously. When Orion showed no signs of having heard him, despite their close proximity, he added a few more words. "Command is requesting we move to assist."

"Command has no say over my regiment." Orion answered calmly, never taking his eyes off the scene. "And I deem it is not yet time for us to engage. Caution, after all, is the better part of valor."

"This won't sit well with the men." The man warned, more worried than threatening. "They grow restless after weeks of inaction."

The Prince gave him a dangerous look and the man knew he shouldn't have brought up any reference to their passivity…or rather their failure. "The men are sworn to me. They will do as their told." His tone had a note of finality to it and the aide nodded compliantly.

"Of course, sir."

* * *

"Colonel!" exclaimed the knight, showing incredible dexterity as he was beside the regimental commander in an instant.

Ryze offered the man a wry grin. "Sir Gottwald, it's good to see you."

"Where is he?" Gottwald asked, concerning saturating his voice, even as the CO was tended to by a pair of medics.

"Where he is not your concern right now." Gottwald frowned at his statement, mouth opening in protests. "The Prince is in danger in more ways than one. If the Regiment falls here, and it likely will without proper guidance, he will be executed for incompetence."

"He's a part of the royal family!" Jeremiah protested.

"Lelouch lives only because the Emperor has been kind enough to give him a chance to prove himself. What do you think will happen if he not only fails, but allows his entire regiment to be _decimated_ in his first assignment?" The Colonel asked rhetorically. "He will be marked for death by the OSI."

Jeremiah face twisted into an angry scowl. "I need to be by His Highness's side right now. If he is killed, it will all be for naught!"

"You're not listening!" Ryze growled, grabbing a fistful of the man's front and drawing him closer, much to the medics' chagrin. "If the regiment is beaten, his life is forfeit anyway!"

"A Knight's place-"

"is where his Lord needs him, not where he wants to be." interrupted Ryze, pressing his point further. "Now will you let me finish? I have maybe a few minutes left before the medics forcefully send me to the battlefield clinic for surgery. I've lost far too much blood to remain conscious for much longer."

Gottwald's shoulders slumped slightly. "You are a perfect fit for the job. You have the rank of the Major, currently the highest in the regiment next to me and the Prince. You have the most experience of all the remaining officers and you are respected by the men by virtue of your relationship to Prince Lelouch. Right now, you need to take command of the regiment on his behalf. Besides, it's not as if we aren't going to send anyone to rescue him. Kururugi can go."

"Kururugi is injured!" Jeremiah countered.

"Then it's good that he will have Sergeant Wolfe's Platoon to assist him." Gottwald remained against the decision. "If anyone can find him…if anyone knows how the Prince thinks, it will be Kururugi."

"You're asking me to entrust His Highness's life to a Number?" The Knight asked sharply, his tone harsh.

"I'm asking you to trust the Prince's friend."

Gottwald weighed his options silently, before standing up. "Think fast, Kururugi." He said, tossing a key towards the Japanese teen.

"Sir?" Kururugi, catching it deftly with one hand, gave the major a surprised look. Suzaku continued in a pointed manner. "This is your knightmare's key."

"You'll need a working frame if you're to stand a chance against Yamashina." Jeremiah looked him straight in the eye. "Try not to wreck this one."

Suzaku couldn't tell if he was talking about the frame or about the trust the major was placing in him. It didn't matter though. He would save both. "Yes sir!" He answered, his confident voice reflecting his determination clearly.

"Go!" Gottwald barked, and Suzaku needed no further prompting.

"One last thing, Major. You'll need to reach the M-4 Mobile Base. As you might have noticed, our equipment here has been destroyed." As if to emphasize his point, a shower of sparks hissed to life.

"Yes sir." Jeremiah rushed out of the bunker in a dead run, and hopped into the jeep he had arrived in, before speeding away. The M-4, being a giant target for the EU, was safe well behind the frontlines. Being high conspicuous also meant that officers would only use it as their base when a large degree of mobility was necessary. In the case of a siege, like right now, they were often stashed away and kept as a reserve in case something…untoward should happen.

The few operators that had been left to keep the M-4 functioning were, to put it lightly, panicking.

"The EU is advancing!"

"We've lost Alpha Group!"

"Fifth Company taking heavy fire here!"

"Fall back! Fall back!"

More reports streamed in from the radios as the staff tried – and failed horribly – to deal with a battlefield rapidly devolving into anarchy. True, they were officers, but the majority of them were there for the technical skills they could offer, not for their abilities as leaders or strategists.

It was time to put an end to this. "Ten-Hut!"

Years of training kicked in as the men snapped to salute almost involuntarily, their previous state of disarray completely forgotten. "As the highest ranking officer active in this regiment, I am taking over until further notice."

"What happened to Colonel Ryze and Major Britannia, sir?" One of them blurted out, unable to control his curiosity.

"That is above your pay grade, soldier." Gottwald replied gruffly. "I need to speak with Sgt. Wolfe. I need a status report of our front and I needed this done yesterday!" He barked, the tone oddly reminiscent of a drill sergeant.

The men jumped into action, a drive not present before in their motions. Jeremiah walked to the central chair, the seat typically reserved for the ranking officer. Its former occupant eagerly handed him a com link to communicate with, and stepped away to man one of the posts.

"Sir, Sgt. Wolfe is on the line."

The major acknowledged with a nod, and placed the com link in his ear. "Sgt. Wolfe, this is Major Gottwald."

"Sir? Why isn't Colonel Ryze there?" Wolfe's startled voice asked.

"Colonel Ryze and the Prince were ambushed at the bunker. Both are alive, but the Prince is still out there. I need your platoon to scour the sector and bring him back to the M-4 safely. Kururugi has been dispatched to provide knightmare support, if it becomes necessary. He will be heading this op, understood?"

"Sir, yes sir! I'll have my men there in five. Wolfe out!"

Gottwald sighed, leaning back into his chair. Five minutes was a lifetime on the field, but it was unlikely they could move any faster. Hopefully, the Prince could hold out that long.

"Sir Gottwald, we're receiving news from the other regiments!" Jeremiah frowned at this. It would have to be important if they were being contacted, and really, there were only two types of news that required such measures: the really good news and the really bad news.

Seeing as this was a battle, it was probably really bad news. "NAL infiltrators have stormed the command bunkers and succeeded in killing General Hayes and his staff!"

Sometimes, Jeremiah hated being right. "What of the other regimental commands?"

"Killed or injured, sir." replied the same man grimly.

Suppressing a screech, Gottwald tried to choke the armrests. "Who's in charge then?"

"You are sir. The men are waiting for orders." Great. Instead of dealing with just a regiment, he now had to handle a division's worth of problems.

"Make those bastards bleed for every inch!"

* * *

"Shouldn't we report to the JLF that Clovis is still alive?" asked Kaname Ohgi, the gun in the schoolteacher's hand looking out of place.

"Nope." was Mao's reply, delivered so cheerily that it made his companion wonder about his sanity.

"But-"

"But wasn't the Prince's death integral to the plan?" finished the demented Chinese agent cockily. "Not anymore. There have been new developments to compensate for this failure."

It amazed Ohgi how the man could answer his questions before he asked them. It was as if his mind was being read! Mao was crazy, but he was also a genius. As the saying goes, there's a fine line between them...

"Meanwhile, we have a new mission." Mao was now addressing the rest of the recently united rebel crew. "We've been asked to cause as much mayhem as we can here, and I can't think of anything better than inciting the locals!" He let out a mad cackle that, by now, everyone had gotten used to.

Kallen snorted disdainfully. "Like fliers or something? Those don't stir up the masses."

"Oh nothing that silly." Mao said in an assuring way.

"Well what's your idea then?" demanded the resident loud mouthed idiot. Ohgi sighed. Tamaki was impetuous as always.

"I was thinking we frame the military."

"Frame them for what?" A suspicious Sugiyama asked.

"For the death of innocent civilians, of course! What else could incite the peasants so effectively?" retorted Mao, as if speaking to a child.

Yoshida considered his words carefully before answering. "The military hasn't conducted anything like that recently."

"We'll have to do it ourselves then." Mao said, looking as if he had all the answers.

"What?" asked Ohgi sharply. He was always the most ardent advocate of morality and other such ideals. "You would have us kill our own people?"

"Why not? It will help free Japan. Is there a problem?"

"Damn right there's a problem!" Ohgi answered, slamming a fist into the poor coffee table. "I _am not _letting you slaughter people. The ends don't justify the means."

Mao watched them silently as the others in the group nodded, signifying they agree with their leader's words. "That's…unfortunate. I wasn't planning on doing this a few more months, but it's really no bother to push up the schedule." He muttered, much to their bewilderment.

Thud! Bang! Thud!

Suddenly, the core members found themselves getting well acquainted with the floor as the agents in the room subdued them with ruthless efficiency. "I can't have you interfering in my plans, so until this is over, I'm placing all of you under arrest. Toodles!"

Unbeknownst to him, a pair of amber eyes watched the proceedings with a mirthful glint.

* * *

"This is ridiculous." murmured Lelouch in between his ragged pants. His legs endured the burning sensation as it carried him forward. "SHIT!" He swore loudly, ducking back into the corner, barely avoiding a burst of gunfire.

The situation had officially gone from bad to worse.

He was stuck here, pinned between two murderous parties without any weapons. It was times like this that he wished he had taken unarmed combat more seriously during Basic.

The sector was surprisingly bereft of true Britannian soldiers, probably because most of them had been killed by the wolves donning the same uniform. As far as he was concerned, everyone here was a hostile. Thankfully, visibility was low and getting even worse. The sporadic missile exploding overhead would temporarily illuminate the darkened streets, but otherwise, there were no sources of light. That would give Lelouch a chance to sneak away, even if it was a slim one.

Despite the situation, he couldn't help but feel a little amazed by the number of NAL troops hiding in the city. Was their security really that lax? He'd have to look into the matter…if he survived, that is.

Perhaps he could hide in one of the buildings…

Lelouch's ears perked up as the sound of an engine revving reached it. The NAL didn't have any vehicles, at least, none that he encountered so far. Tires screeched to a dead stop and machine guns unleashed a barrage that could've woken the dead. The street turned into a chaotic sprawl as the newcomers engaged the NAL and Britannians surged into the road to push back the infiltrators.

An Argyl, the 01 unit, charged into the fray, joining the frenzy with a hail of micro bullets. Faced with the mechanical monstrosity, the NAL had no choice but to run or die. The fighting stopped and the atmosphere returned to its eerie quietness.

A trio of soldiers ran up to the Prince, familiar armbands marking them as friendlies. "Your Highness!" They saluted once they recognized his face. "We came as soon as we could, sir. Major Gottwald has ordered us to bring you to the M-4 ASAP."

"We have secured His Highness." Another said into a radio. The soldier looked the Prince over, inspecting him, before speaking again. "No, he's unharmed."

"What the situation out there?" Lelouch asked, allowing himself to be led to the waiting armored vehicle nearby.

"It's pretty bad sir." The soldier answered with a grimace, reminded of something fairly unpleasant. "Infiltrators have succeeded in wiping out command. When we left, the Major was just beginning to reestablish order."

"Gottwald?" Lelouch's face turned into an appraising one. "Then who's piloting the Argyl?"

"Your Highness, that would be Sir Kururugi."

Another Argyl chose that instant to make an appearance. "Yamashina." snarled Lelouch, a viciousness in his tone that the men had never heard before.

"We should go, Your Highness. There's nothing we can do to help Sir Kururugi here." The soldier urged, worry apparent in his body language. The Prince stepped into the humvee, knowing the truth behind those words.

"Tell Kururugi to bring Yamashina in alive." He ordered, his expression an icy one.

* * *

Kallen let out a guttural howl as she struggled futilely to break loose of the handcuffs that were clamped around her wrists.

She had put up a fierce resistance against the agents, and it had earned her their attention and scorn. As a result, she was placed in a separate room, with her hands behind her and unable to move away from the pole which she had been chained to.

She was going to _kill_ that traitor when she got out of here.

The soft pitter patter alerted her of a presence. Someone was approaching from behind! Her body tensed as she readied to lash out against the brave soul. While throwing her weight to the right, she lifted her feet, rotating her body 180 while sending flying kick towards the newcomer.

To her shock, her attack had been stopped deftly. Not by an agent even, but by Mao's girlfriend. "You!"

C.C. tilted her head, as if observing a curious specimen. "Me."

"What do you want?" Kallen spat out venomously.

"Something," C.C. began vaguely. "Unfortunately, I can't get it with Mao watching me like a hawk."

"So you want to be free from him as well?" Kallen inquired. "If you get me out of here, I'll do my best to help you out." She offered.

Honestly, Kallen didn't know how the girl would react. What she least expected though, was for her to smirk. "I can do better than that." was all C.C. said, before tapping her forehead lightly.

Kallen's eyes widened significantly. They were no longer in the room!

Images and scenes that had a life like quality to them flashed before her eyes in rapid succession. They seemed to be memories…although certainly it wasn't hers. "You wish to be free." C.C.'s voice boomed, yet its owner was nowhere to be found. "You want the power to save your comrades. I can grant you Geass – the Power of the King, if you promise to grant me one wish."

"Is this some sort of joke?" Kallen asked aloud, eyes narrowing as she tried to recall if she had been administered any hallucinogens. She had never experiences it herself, but the descriptions of an acid trip were strikingly similar to what she was going through right now. Perhaps that was it?

"This is no joke." The voice boomed. Damn. "Be warned, Geass will condemn you to a life of solitude, for those who wield must walk their path alone. But if you accept, you will gain the power to change the world."

The power to change the world? It was too good to be true…

"Do you accept my contract?"

She had barely uttered "Yes" when a red bird-like sigil glowed brightly, nearly blinding her, before enveloping her vision completely.

Kallen's sight returned and she found herself back in the room with nothing changed except, perhaps, for the infuriating smirk the green-haired witch wore. If anything, it grew even wider. "What the hell did you do to me?" She growled, reverting back to her acid trip theory.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" C.C. answered the question with a question.

It was only then that Kallen realized her hands were free. A glance below confirmed that her cuffs were on the floor.

She was about to celebrate her momentary freedom when the door opened, allowing two agents to step in with guns drawn.

In that instant, something clicked in Kallen.

The world around her seemed to be moving in slow motion. Oddly enough, she was moving just as slowly too. Her physical speed had not increased, but her mind was processing everything around her at a supersonic pace.

It was strangely mesmerizing to see bullets propelled towards her at such a rate, and while the slowing of time did not allow her to catch them – which would have been pretty bad ass – she was able to evade them with ease.

To the agents, she was reacting to their actions just as fast as or even before they could do them! Kallen was closing in too fast and too soon for their guns to be of much use any longer. The pair did the only sensible thing in their position – try to overwhelm the nimble girl at close quarters.

A well executed somersault placed the redhead between the two, hands already shifting to deflect the startled agents' oncoming punches before her feet had even met ground. In a feat worthy of a gymnast, her left foot shot straight up, slamming into a chin with incredible force and sending the attached body sprawling. Not wasting any time, Kallen swung her leg around to knockout the other, only to have the offending appendage grabbed.

The ace was not to be bested though and she used the opportunity to launch a barrel kick with her other foot even as her enemy unwittingly stabilized her. With the room now cleared, she stood up and dusted off her clothes.

C.C. followed her out of the room with a mischievous grin.

Yes…this new contractor would be an interesting one to watch.

* * *

Again and again, two humanoid robots clashed from opposite ends of the streets, neither refusing to give way to the other.

"You are a traitor to your own people, Kururugi!" Yamashina bellowed, thrusting the controller forward and sending a supercharged round towards his countryman.

"Perfidious scum!" roared Suzaku, agilely twisting to avoid the lethal shot before replying with one of his own. The round missed its mark, but ripped into a bulky knightmare behind it. "You don't know the meaning of honor!"

"Checkmate, Suzaku. We have you outnumbered." Kenji announced cockily as two more Bamides moved forward to replace the recently downed one.

"Numbers don't mean anything to me. You will lose this battle!"

And the 01 rushed towards its foes with reckless abandon, swinging its electrified rod around like a baton. The reinforced riot shield shrugged off the pitiful attacks of the twin Bamides, while the 03 had run out off ammo, just as Suzaku had.

"We'll see about that." Kenji said coolly, leading his compatriots onwards.

A second before the two prototypes met, Suzaku twisted his controls sharply, causing his machine to spin to the right and dodge the collision by a hair's breadth. His rail gun, carried forward by the momentum, lashed out against a Bamide and overloaded its mechanisms with a surgical strike to the chest.

Suzaku had taken Gottwald's lesson to heart.

His shield arm was moving on its own now, rising to block a potentially fatal, point blank artillery shell from the other Bamide. The fact that Suzaku's frame had suffered no real damage was a testament to the shield's durability. Nevertheless, a sizeable dent marred its surface for the force of the attack was nothing to laugh at.

Thankfully, Suzaku never let the knightmare get another chance as he drove his makeshift lance into its torso before discharging. With the unwelcome guests taken care of, he turned his attention back to Kenji, who had managed to stop his frame's incredible momentum a moment too late to intervene.

This fight would not be as easy as the last, Suzaku knew. While the NAL rebels were barely capable of operating the frames, the treacherous Honorary Britannian was formidable with his machine. Weeks of working together had given Suzaku a glimpse of his abilities, which was more than enough to make him take this seriously.

Kenji was an ace, after all, capable of going toe to toe with him any day. They wouldn't have been accepted into the Zero Squad otherwise, especially given their heritage.

"Colonel Tohdoh's time with you was wasted." Kenji remarked condescendingly. "You would turn your sword against a liberator of the motherland!"

Suzaku's blood boiled. Yamashina was going _down! _"At least I understand the meaning of Bushido. Any man who would rise against his Lord is not fit of the title samurai!"

The twin knightmares burst into life, keenly resembling the jousting knights of old. And then, it was over.

* * *

The Kallen Kozuki that Ohgi knew was a brash, impulsive teenage girl stricken with an insatiable need for vengeance against those who had cut down her brother at his prime. The Kallen Kozuki he knew was an ace pilot; young and untested but full of potential.

The Kallen Kozuki in front of him now - beating the living shit out of the trained agents assigned to them - was completely foreign to him.

She moved with such control and coordination he didn't even know existed. Every parry, blow and block seemed to be part of a larger plan, a piece of the puzzle. If Ohgi didn't know any better, he'd say she was a martial arts prodigy.

The problem was that he did know her. Quite well, in fact. She had never displayed this level of skill before.

Whatever had happened in the hour of isolation had inexplicably changed her. For better or worse, he could not tell.

* * *

"Why are you doing this C.C.?" asked Mao in a way only a heartbroken man could.

The witch gazed at her contractor behind a 500 Smith and Wesson Magnum revolver, the world's most powerful pistol. "It's time to end our contract." She explained calmly.

"But-but C.C.! We were supposed to be together forever!" Mao whined in a childish manner that annoyed the Code Bearer to no end.

C.C. regarded him with sad eyes. "I'm sorry Mao. I should have done this a long time ago."

For the first time in ages, Mao was at a lost. He had often relied on his Geass to get him the answers, or failing that, clue him in on the best way to proceed. But against his precious C.C., his telepathy would not work. He was never good with improvisation either...

C.C. pulled the trigger and the body slumped to the floor, surprised eyes locked in place.

* * *

"Present, Arms!"

Lelouch strode into the room, waving them off. "At ease." Violet orbs scanned the room, before landing on the object of interest. "Sir Gottwald, bring me up to date."

"Yes, Your Highness." Gottwald answered with a wide grin plastered on his face. "We've managed to hold the line in sector 4-3 for now. Our forces are consolidating there to reinforce the right flank. The other regiments are securing the left and center." A glance at the screens nearby revealed that the Britannian line cut through the city at an angle, with the 2nd Quebec acting as the tip of the spear.

"What of Altair?" asked Lelouch with a modicum of concern over his half brother and latest political ally. "Did he survive the purge?"

"He did, Your Highness, but not without injury I'm afraid."

Lelouch inspected the detailed diagrams with a critical eye. "You've done well here, Sir Gottwald."

"Thank you Your Highness!" exclaimed a kneeling Jeremiah. He was bubbling with joy at the unexpected praise.

"How very curious…" The Prince whispered, earning him a look from his Knight de facto. "Why did the 12th Imperial not intervene?"

Gottwald frowned, unsure how to answer. "They are sworn to Prince Orion, sir. Technically speaking, they are answerable only to the Emperor."

"There's something shady about this." Lelouch's demeanor morphed into a dark one. "And speak of the devil…" He commented, as a transmission request popped up in the screen. "Answer it for me."

If Jeremiah found the order odd, he showed no sign of it whether express or implied. "This is Major Gottwald of the 3rd Division. What can I do for you, Prince Orion?" He asked with feigned politeness.

"My regiment is in place to launch an attack on the EU at sector 9. I would appreciate it if you gave me authority over all forces stationed in the area." Orion said imperiously. His inflection suggested it was anything but a request.

Before the major could answer, the transmission was cut off. "How rude…" Lelouch noted with quirked lips. "Belay that order, Sir Gottwald."

"Sir?"

"Prince Orion does not have the right to seize command from another royal; neither does his rank warrant such an action." The teen explained patiently. "As far as we're concerned, he is overstepping his bounds."

"But Prince Orion will storm the enemy lines regardless." pointed out Jeremiah. "His forces will be decimated without support."

Lelouch inclined his head to the side, a stoic expression crossing his face. "I'm just repaying the favor." He said so coldly that one could not find a hint of remorse in it.

The hair on Jeremiah's back tingled and he suppressed a shudder at the heartless way the statement was delivered. He had never seen this side of the Prince before...then again, he hadn't been with Lelouch for that long.

"His forces are making plenty of headway." Gottwald noticed, the blue blips signifying the 12th regiment moving further and further into the mass of red dots.

"It won't last for long." Lelouch dismissed, sounding very assured. True to his word, three hours later, the map had changed radically. The increasingly stiff resistance of the EU had finally put a halt to the advance, while even more elements overwhelmed its flanks and cut off their only retreat.

"Cut off all communications." Lelouch ordered. That ensured they would be unable to receive any distress calls. "Pay attention closely, Sir Gottwald. Notice how the enemy meticulously cuts off each part of the whole. If Orion had any wits to him, he would stop his suicidal assault. Unfortunately…" More blue dots disappeared at an increasingly alarming rate.

"Sir…Prince Orion is dead." One of the men reported solemnly.

Lelouch leaned into his chair, the calm never leaving his features. He seemed unconcerned…no, relieved even.

"All preliminary conditions have been cleared." Jeremiah heard him say under his breath. "I hope this display has left you with some insights to how the enemy fights. The next time you see it, it'll be our turn to face them."

* * *

**_November 25, 2017 (Z Day + 56)_**

A grim faced veteran picked his way through the street's burning wreckage cautiously.

"Relax sarge." He heard his inexperienced squad mate say. "We've got those Britannians on the run." The words were uttered with a cockiness that came only with youthful ignorance.

"What you really need to do is relax a little. Have I told you about this chick I met the other day? She was a wild one. Why-" His boisterous recount of his recent sexual exploits were cut off as a piece of metal lodged itself into his throat, leaving him incapable of any sound but garbled screams. The boy, barely 18, died choking from his own blood.

"Get down!" cried out the war-worn man as sniper fire erupted all around them, whittling away the group with terrifying accuracy.

It was just his luck that the car his men had conveniently hid behind chose that moment to explode, littering the area with accelerated shrapnel.

The universe had a peculiar way of telling them to fuck off.

"Where's our Goddamn support?" screamed their corporal just before he became a human pincushion for bullets.

An APC chose that moment to roll down the street, as if answering the dead man's request. The sergeant let out a sigh of relief. The vehicle would provide them a modicum of cover as they recovered from the –

BOOM!

Damn it, the sergeant thought, as he watched a rocket shred their hopes.

It was Stalingrad all over again.

* * *

Rommel was usually confident of victory…until now that is.

The still unexplained temporary chaos that had wrecked the Britannian lines had allowed his troops to secure several key objectives. Specifically, they had finally managed to cripple the already fledgling KMF units attached to the 3rd Division. Estimates suggested there were less than five battle ready Sutherlands in the entire city, nowhere near enough to stem the veritable onslaught of Gardemares and Panzer-Hummels.

The only thing they did have were tanks, but even those were horribly inadequate for city fighting against the superior mobility of the humanoid machines.

It was to his surprise, therefore, when he received word that a lance of Gardemares were wiped out without inflicting a single casualty. A quarter of a hundred knightmares was a powerful force in its own right, even without considering the infantry and armor supporting them.

The Britannians had lured them into striking range of their offshore battleships.

Suddenly, the dreaded feeling he had two days ago returned with frightening intensity. The mysterious tactician was back..and in charge of the entire city now, it seemed.

This was going to be a bloody affair. He just knew it.

* * *

**_November 27, 2017 (Z Day + 58)_**  
**_20:00 (UTC + 1:00)_**

"This is hopeless." moaned an unusually distraught Lieutenant Tiberius Hopkins of the 88th Armored Regiment. "We don't have enough KMFs to hold the city. Why doesn't he just call for a withdrawal?"

The recently promoted Captain Simon Haywood spared his colleague an irked glance, before returning to his work. Alan Wood - who was sporting his own newly stitched insignia - was far more accommodating. "You should have more faith in the Major." He chided. "He isn't as reliant on knightmares as other commands are. Surely our time under him has at least left you with _that_ knowledge."

"Well…yeah…" conceded Hopkins, "but still. What chance do tanks have against Gardemares in an urban warzone?"

"Technically none." The three turned on instinct and snapped a hasty salute. It was a voice they had become well acquainted with in their brief tour of duty.

Behind them was Major Lelouch vi Britannia, acting commander of 3rd Division. It was strange to see the Prince so near the front alone and without an escort, either in the form of his special squad or Wolfe's men. A cheeky smirk persuaded them that he was up to something ingenious, no doubt. "Then again, I don't plan to play by the rules. Perhaps a demonstration is in order?"

The officers nodded without a peep, rendered mute by his mere presence.

"Observe the Gardemares moving along the south. Do you know why they chose that road?"

"Because their afraid of the battleships sir." answered Hopkins immediately. By now, everyone had heard of how a lance of the fierce weapons were utterly decimated by a well directed salvo from the floating artillery platforms.

"They'll soon find that the battleships was the better option to face. Our latest toys have just arrived. The shoulder-mounted, anti-knightmare device operated with nitradite." Lelouch informed them with childish glee.

Without any audible warning, the lead Gardemare was suddenly torn apart by a violent burst of energy.

"We're calling it the SMAKDOWN."

* * *

_**November 29, 2017**_

"This is Sancia."

"Yes both targets have been secured."

"Dalque is injured."

"It was hardly our fault sir! The JLF engaged and we had no choice. Their commander's going on a genocidal rampage!"

"Understood…we will transport the Princess immediately."

* * *

**AN: On the title – Dead Draw is a chess terminology where neither side is capable of making any headway against the other.**


End file.
